#poetry

Of Life gently
Caressing my
Cheeks
As I bite down
On calamari
From Splash Cafe.
Clint Eastwood ate
There once.
A picture of him
Is above
East facing windows
Next to the door.

Big graveyard
And the tide pools
Are Desperation.
People walk by.
Morbid curiosity
In part.
And hopeful
Chances at
Catching critters
Hoping to escape
Them birds
Above.
They always walk
Past my cave
That’s only there
At low tide.
I like to eat
Lunch there.
Coffee, absolutely.
I see the reflection

Too much coffee.
Where’s my
Stigmata, man?

3/8/25

#poetry

Just trendy
Stories with
Zero paths
To progress
Written word.
Maybe I’m becoming
Greedy again.
No really,
My lunch is
Just getting cold.
And those brown
Pants moving
Before me
Just beg and
Beg.
I’ve missed
So much
And miss
Much more.
I can’t watch
Anymore, man.
These shelves
Are getting taller.

#poetry

As coffee
Stirs creamer
Nights.
But is my
Life
That to cosmos
Burden?
Too much
Weed
Or little to
Burn.
My incense
Burns too,
With Impressionist
Ghosts
Walking my
Walls
Like I walk
Vernal Falls.
You never
Sat down
With me,
Your drink
Is luke warm.
And I’ve only
Ordered dinner
Twenty minutes
Ago.