tween the heart and NYC
only love poems and other complaints; “teach me where the apostrophe goes, the comma and why the question mark is curved and dotted like my …
in the garden of Eden
sundial, of stone and bronze, wasting, weathered green, measurer of time in years; doomed to erode; and YET, the iris comes but for days, yet …
M
ABOUT MY POEM My poems remain explorations of the subconscious erotic They are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of …
on a bus near you...
eye am a recording devicespecial filters of my own prejudice. eye live in various bus stops where punctuation of life moments need not be, are …