{ Ananke }

day exhales,

deep from her belly as she sighs,

her gentle breath

sweeps across the grass,

ushering in the night,

tickles the gossamer wings of young maids on a nearby swing,

they giggle and writhe with glee.

summer leaves rustle impatiently —

wink in my direction.

bluebirds and robins whistle down stream,

whispering to each other between melodies,

a secret from another place,

songs of innocence

and of experience

tease my hair and kiss my cheeks

with the affection of tender moments that were never mine,

calling out to be remembered,

in exchange for more time.

fireflies don their evening garments,

the sun, sinking behind clouds,

oozes oil painted rose petals,

sweet sounds of honey

drip, drip, drip

into the wind and rush along its rivers.

a rogue wave subsumes the glow of evening.

how full of stars was the world that night—

open arms of eternal summer

stretched out to catch me just in time;

how kind was destiny that night.

[ photo: Harri Peccinotti, 1969 ]


you’re gone, and

you took your love with you

on your way

out the door.

you were my last cigarette,


i don’t smoke anymore.

what a shame

it is to be human,

what a burden

is the heart,

love is only


when it’s

portrayed in art.

robbed of my vice,

with nothing

to show,

except a hole in

my chest

where your love used to be,

not long ago.

how easily tender memories

are swept up and away

like smoke, or a cloud

on a windy

winter’s day.

how quickly love is

betrayed by fearful


you left with my last cigarette,

not even the ashes are here

to comfort me.

[ photo: photo by Shana and Robert ParkeHarrison ]


always workin’ hard makes

an honest soul tired,

but i can’t get no sleep,

cus’ i’m up all night,

dreamin’ of places

i’d rather be.

gotta’ get outta’ here


the water’s full to the brim,

but i’m all the way under,

n’ i don’ know how to swim.

i gotta’ shake off these


but it might be too late—

the change in my pocket


i gotta’ wait.

gotta’ work

to make money,

gotta’ pay what i owe,

no time to waste,

gonna’ reap what i sow.

can’t slow down,

i’ll dream when I’m outta’

the thick,

no rest ‘till then,

gotta’ move quick’.

clear up head,

no time to choke—

were the last words

my honest soul

ever spoke.

the change in my pocket

got a hold on me,

and now,

i got the blues.

[ photo: photo by Kyle Thompson @kylejthompson ]