We need more barefoot days. And a beautiful Mean Mary song.
We need more barefoot days. (April is poetry month. New poetry number ten.) I feel in love with the Pacific Ocean in 1992. I was very lucky. The Army send me to Fort… Continue reading
We need more barefoot days. (April is poetry month. New poetry number ten.) I feel in love with the Pacific Ocean in 1992. I was very lucky. The Army send me to Fort… Continue reading
The hanging tree. In 1991, I needed nothing, I wanted nothing. I was seeking the good death. A pretty lady with the saddest eyes in Michigan, she asked me. What are seeking Johnnie?… Continue reading
The death of love. A lonely lullaby. 1- Once upon a time, you came to me at midnight and you went to my bedroom. You stripped off your clothing and you waited for… Continue reading
Don’t allow the world to make you beg. Can we be imprison by lies? Can we be locked away and forgotten? Don’t allow the liars into your mind, don’t allow the naysayers to… Continue reading
Dear Gail. She was my sea dancer; she was a kind lover. Now, she is a lasting memory, and she is tattoos on my mind. I was being loco, drinking and trying to… Continue reading