Elephant Graveyard

The tip of a blade Of elephant grass holding on to a dew drop Like an elephant tear, subtle yet tragic Can a photographer capture this? And that tragedy lies in seeing the eye of a poacher The in-bred apathy or the barrel of a gun The out-bred fury and when that dew turns to…

Am I Special ?

Would words collapse like a sink hole, too beautiful to be true And I the wordsmith, pummeling the type writer keys With a Hemingway streak, and the metal heads Clattering on paper; Would I be special if I was Hemingway? And then I think of all the Cuban cigars smoked in a lifetime And all…

My Nose

The nose was the same one I was born with The same one that I neglected and took for granted My nose was a mushroom head Guillotined at the stipe, chopped in half and given Two flute holes to breathe through And he wasn’t like buttons or truffles Neither Gomphus or Rickenella were close It…

Moth to a Flame (Erotica)

A moth to a flame – yours The contours golden, blue at the center Wax turning to gold on your skin Flowing like they have a divine purpose As I throw my body at your fire And I feel torched soldiers mining through Glowworms searching for liberation And your flames splitting apart in Fahrenheit Burning…