A poet relaxed on an urban hill,
Glass beneath him echoing
The dazzling lights above.
Stringing syllables together
In the noon-day sun.

Fishing for time or saying your piece
When you smile politely and swallow your grief
Doing these things beyond belief
Beyond the seas
Daughter come home
And pieces of one
Will be made whole.

Birthday

There is a tiger in the woods.
To the mist she clings
And trails like smoke
A wild thing,
Animal pure, bearing
Death's silent sting

She roars, like a beast in ascent
At the foodchain peak
Or a man on the brink
Of denying defeat.

She slinks in the soft shadows
Between candle-lights
And calls to the moon
In the vastness of nights
A gall-mingled cocktail
Of despair and delight
Alone and aloof
And hidden from sight.

Distractions from the Sermon

Saphires
Pearls
A waterfall
Summertime
Green shoots
and Golden thread
a Dawning day
You.

2 Reasons I Dislike the American Government

The way they seek to run other countries.
The way they run their own.