Some time ago
My skin turned wooden
My feet moulded into one
Foot
I slipped
And smudged the painted grid
On the marble floor
Another time I fell
And did not stop
I rolled right off the board
It was not a conscious decision
To spectate rather than participate
But it happened
As it does to many
Who give up on giving
When you undertake solely seeing
You relinquish being
But not feeli...

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Living in the shadow

of someone else’s life

is a safe hiding place,

most of the time. 

You get to observe, 

detached, 

no fear, no pain. 

Fertile breeding ground

to create art, music, poetry...

Until the shadow turns around,

chases you down, 

strips you naked in front of a

stone-casting society. 

Do you stand erect

in the blinding light...

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I packed a suitcase for just myself 
then took a trip to winter months. Found
the key to the bedroom in a snow-crusted corner. 
Flat-lined in a crowded room and had to shake

off the hangover in          
                    empty spaces. 
So mood landed on carpet
and grew dim like a lamp when the flimsy blanket
drapes over the shade to welcome the latest
blast of ice in gray sunset. 
...

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Poetry is a 
refuge for 
a lonely life

the antidote
for pain 
and strife

warm words 
blanketing
a frigid night

tonic for thirsty sailors 
drowning in an ocean 
from which we cannot drink

To our deserted island we go 

while the world 
casts us loners, 
introverts, quiet
weird, crazy...

Let them judge 
as they wine and dine 
in crowded rooms 
on cell patrol

while w...

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On the days when my tongue betrays me
The pen is my ally.
While it cannot turn off my mind
It is comforting to have a friend
Who promises the comfort of revision,
Of reinvention,
Of erasure,
Of closure.

On the nights
When my bed is my solace
And sleep is a guest who takes too damn long to arrive
There are words
my words
That I can use to dream.

There are days when my mind
And my...

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