The Man Is A Poet

Kitsch The pious heart longs saccharine, And sacrilege upon the heel, An aryan Jesus, blond and pink, Pink kinfolk — grin...

Lines of elegance bend in space, Contract in a gnarled boulder Twisted bone, sinew, and skin, Endless wonder to the beholde...

There is a place where clouds scramble, Hungry to swallow vale and wood, and I, Lost spaces and memories in misty bramble, Cool...

Like heffalumps and woozles, (1) Like a Rodin or a Picasso, Souls afire with star dust, Yet jesting in the side-show, Half lif...

This old world so grinds me down, The petals are strewn all about, This place of gray and earthen brown, My soul ...

Heed the creed of steel, of gun, Drowns the choral mists of dawn, While blood has called for blood, Luna folds wings and is...

How can you rightly be remembered, Burn and blaze in my waning soul, I with the sense of a new born foal, Neglect the love ...