

Song of MyselfSong of MyselfSong of Myself
Ever in solitude, Ever a friend, a pet for others, dog at their feet as I lap up the love they share amongst themselves. I lick up the scraps, the left-over emotions at the foot of the bed. To all friends a dog, ever present to comfort, And without a leash bound to one other soul, I am free to belong to all. I roam from spouses, significant others, couples, lovers; pieces that fit in the human tessellation, And they enjoy my presence and want me to be present even at their moments together in doubled solitude, Because to them I'm just a pet, Their favorite


Aura BlueAura BlueAura Blue
I fell into a moment A place where I could sleep. Away from friendships broken Away from shattered dreams. For in my life so lonely All had become corrupt And time it moved so slowly Yet I could not keep up.
And I just want you to see, Why all I need is to dream, So that I can be free, On the other side. . . Where no one's waiting for me.
Then all at once a fusion Of soul and conscience came. It stole the air worth breathing And stripped away my name. Here had appeared a tall man, a Weathered dimensi


The Lyres of IndustriaThe Lyres of IndustriaThe Lyres of Industria
Toothbrush spray of water Fuzzes up the windshield, Interferes with the view of Industria, in barren fields Picked bare of grass. Reservoirs form An instrument no one can wield, Glistening in the darkness: The lyres of Industria. Piercing soil, spires rise, Looming shadows make the installment A spectacle of wonder, balls of Light from the embalming Of night, thick and purple, But nothing more can stall it. The rain will make them play: The lyres of Industria. Arcing smokestacks make the


La MancheLa MancheLa Manche
I'm posed upon a prominence Of coalescent rocks. With slitted gaze, I stare for days At russet seaweed locks. Though Her siren's song is sounded Her gaze truly beckons, Ses yeux de brume sur vagues brunes Make cat-call reflections. She sweeps a silken turquoise sleeve Across Her polished brow, Naufrager dans ses boucles de sarrasin I descend upon the sand She walks along adjacent aisles Her slender curve of shoulder saunters up to smooth away the cigarette butts and the salt flies sitting on the shifting sand grains as She pu