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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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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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)

Dreamland (a poem)

just before slumber

there’s a moment between

dream & wakefulness

a hazy realm

eyes closed

your smelly dog

at the foot of the bed, growling

the moment happens

in milliseconds

you fall into dreamland

shifting sands

awake to sunlight

peering through heavy curtains

a new day – but

are you still in dream?

this whole thing may not

be what it seems

(Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash)