Hear, I come from the ocean. I ripple the tides and create motion.   Some think I am a messenger From an angry God. There is no way Something so intangible Is so substantial, So heavy a thought.   I’m steamed bread from the cities Determiner of breath The wind’s interpreter Carrier of scents Absorbed…

You remember You take chicktation. Wut? You’re next! Get thee to a nunnery. Where?  They say I love you,  Tu-tin! Oh my, why? There is only flare. Because,  and once upon a time, “They” thought they were there. But, in sum They’re still here And They’re coming… You’ll remember,  I dare say Joan of Arc…

“I’ve got beans that Father told me to buy, which I lied about before I did it, and I did it before, Because I was in progress And interrupted by my Family system, and now They are leaving the system Very soon. So, I can enjoy not surrendering To their biscuits anymore.”

Stands With a Fist Falls down with a Joy. She beats down sunny And conscious!

A desperate call for help Is on both of our faces, Our brows are furrowed, so Our hands are full.   We lay arms, So bare hands can move mountains. The breeze, sometimes The cold winds of white snow Exist in our both places.   If faith evades us, We have each other. Our minds…

              —again,  the book on Napoleon inspired this Scans A field of battle Prowess Inspired Obscure Occupied Acumen and acuity Centralized Petty Principalities Dissolution Busily measure Exhaustively Inquire, enquire Each bearing a different view Ambitious and implausible Squadrons To fan confidence Supremacy in nature Swathed in Open-fronted Connotations Its accents Pays homage Returned to a…

There is this question of the existence of a God or even really a Universe.  The question’s intensity sometimes produces a euphoric stupor. Some moments are hard enough to comprehend when synchronicity occurs, mysteriously insinuating that we are more secure than we think, or that our existence is scarily predetermined. I hear in musical tones…

              –also a found poem from that book about Napoleon The prestige reappeared in new forms The glaring floodlights illuminated The public was obliged to wait. In the task of controlling her laughter They sat on thrones. It gave an air of legitimacy. She viewed both sides with appalled intensity Varying with the importance of…

—-inspired found poetry from a history book about Napoleon I found at the psychiatric ward. Lingering over the menu at a favorite café, Frip stares moodily into the future. Paranoia began to manifest itself from gazing sternly at his portrait of choices. It triumphantly emerges from the gloom, and finally he settles for honey mixed…

He let himself tell her What was going on In his mind. She left him after that, Too vapid and fickle To find him attractive, She left him behind.   But it seemed that if He told her, It was all she wanted. She could not handle The complexity of his wounds, The places his…