in autumn when the awards were dispelled
he prayed in the basement
to his bodhisattva
drinking coffee
dashing against depression
his desperation to dream
dreams of driving home to his father
through fires in the forest
true freedom to come from ghosts
goodbye my grief
all my heroes have insomnia
to live and love under moon til morning
mortality transfixed to the muse
music gods and nature dance through night
while pain is trapped in photography
and poetry rains a red blood street
go now to the mill
say farewell to relationships
the separation that had to come
sleep now my son in stillness
be a stranger to surgery
your minds survival is in the trees
and when it’s time trust your wine
and unleash your words


3 thoughts on “tagged

  1. Pam courson

    Magnificent ……. The muse bent down while the poet ponders in his chair, she kisses his head and words were reborn 🙂

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