Tumbling into the vast escape. What...indeed is the languid turmoil for? When staring up at the painted on ceiling for salacious hints... Less than many...have gone since. I have sat in the rooms of pretense and it's friendship with despair. No matter, the guttural response... I cannot produce the flair.
Ironic, the emotions are no different on the other side. Having subsisted in the great pretense of...someone else. Then...and, now... when the floods rushed upon me. It had always been torment that I felt. ⊗ Today, as before, the closet door, love was a feast in which I dined. Hate a rapturous offender. Dissidence for … Continue reading Before the Closet Door
I am a poet not a politician. I ran for office once...I felt dirty all the time and I offered little in return other than; being an honest official to New Hampshire's needs. Along with no believing in the modern age of television, I read too much! Particularly, political articles, history pages and the 'art' of … Continue reading Otto Dix and Other Degenerate Artists
How normal? Possibly too much so. The brother asks for another slice of pie. The father, obliquely speaks of the chores that need to be done tomorrow. But, no storied lullaby can end so easily... ...The brother recalls that while he was with his friends Tom and Billie Joe, they had put a frog down … Continue reading the Tallahatchie Bridge
There are things I can disclose Alas, there are things that I cannot. I am the surface of things I look much like my senses. Never been to handle with care Though, I know many who have been there. Trained well in the art of pulling the drapes shut Living on the outskirts of love … Continue reading Homophobia