Some poems

Blast Plato

You say art is farce,
mere reflection of my real spot,
which, in turning, is sad reflection again.
But can't you see me here breathing in
both light and dark for good? Forget you Plato.

You imagine a better way, a sphere more complete
than what is in my spotted cave. Where there is change, celebration, process, seasons, chance, creativity and fallible men.
Go play with your world that isn't.
The Spring that never springs. The Fall that never falls. Go crazy Plato.

I love the crooked path I walk
with my mottled feet.
Where there is a spot of beauty in pain, and pain in the sweet.
Life is art made by my mottled feet.





Fun with You

all Fun is floating
above what's known

seeing the unexpected
to share with another

committing to memory
what i see myself do

with you, Fun.

but can the eyes focus?
will the shot be true?
Can I stand it a little longer?

don't say "enough."
don't lie down.
let it continue.