Primordial (a poem)

I am the tramp who wanders American backroads

I am the immigrant who seeks asylum but is denied entry

I am the fool who cries at the drug rehab

I am the fortunate son who squanders wealth

I am the bus driver who drives the Greyhound off the cliff

I am the night-storm that terrorizes the Midwest

I am the space-dust that destroys satellites

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Holy Dread (a poem)

the wise man mutters a prayer

flails his arms in the air

tells me i should not care

about the material world

he swirls in a trance

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Past Lifetimes (a poem)

in dreams, i tremble

before unseen forces

always at work behind

scenes & a screen

of smoke that masks their faces

but not beaming eyes

that stare from shadowed corners

of my brain

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Lies about Kabbalah (a poem)

i’m not allowed to study

the kabbalah ‘til I’m forty years old

but I take sneak peeks

(i never do as I’m told)

but that’s a lie!

i’m not jewish & I wouldn’t

understand kabbalah anyway

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Cold Cemeteries (a poem)

the only freedom I want

is to break my ego’s chains

which confine me in cold cemeteries

to the dead,

who rise each night & breathe fire

only I can see,

who speak in a language

only I can understand,

telling me with certitude

I’ll join them soon

& also haunt the living

(Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash)

Yellow Moons (a poem)

be careful, son

don’t delve into

too much mystery

it’ll consume you

pray to yellow moons

inky-black skies

howling wolves

green wilderness

cycles of rebirth

summer turns to autumn

the land sustains us

be careful, son

& brave

(Photo by Izabelle Acheson on Unsplash)