I was drifting through stretches of ethereal imagination with eyes shut in manipulation.  These swimming subconscious melodies remain buoyant as sweet wine is tasted.  The final spaces are filled and the stars remain omnipresent in the stratosphere.  The Way is set in gold


Renegade poet

reading Whitman in morning

nirvana again


We’re ready for action.  Coyotes and wolves wander streets prowling and seeking fresh meat.  The dangers remain present but we must drive on.  The words of saints are murmured at barely audible levels.  I am certain they mean well with all that hyperbole.


Shamans dance at dawn

cool waters flowing over souls

in joyous rapture


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Stephen's picture

Strangely intriguing.


georgeschaefer's picture

only the strange remains in

only the strange remains in these days

georgeschaefer's picture

I took it as a compliment

I took it as a compliment