swimming in a sea of anarchy

hitching a ride. no cars stop. and then… whatever you do some things just were not meant to work out.

throwing stones
into clouds of dust
my shuffling shoes

a fog in the mist at midnight of a new moon

when we are sleeping all the interesting things in our life happen. but then we wake up.

the breeze and i
still
in the garden

anyone who had a heart wouldnt turn around and break it

lou reed is playing sweet jane. i am getting ready to trip. if something seems wrong about this picture then you have a demented mind. a very demented mind. by the end of the song i am a pacifist socialist house painter from detroit.

confusion
in the public square…
spring breezes

tribute band

i was a banker after i went insane. what was i not thinking. i should have formed a rock and roll symphony and played mozart the way the great man really intended.

in the slipstream
of david bowie
an old man writes poems

saved by rock and roll

album oriented rock they called it. i drove an ice cream truck in a detroit suburb. i was high on more than life. i had become a horticultural devotee. i wore the sweet smell of success. as the vietnam war was winding down. nothing but the glitter of ice crystals on red white and blue bombpops. another friend slips from view.

saluting
the goodyear blimp
the slow tug of loss

punctuated birds on the powerline

on the side of the road staring at the clouds. everything comes together perfectly.

harmony
takes a form
morning mist

gunslingers

haiku poets are the hired killers of poetry. strolling down main street. encountering life. we take aim are your emotions and leave the ‘thinking’ to anyone else. then up on our high horse and out of town. jus like that.

ruts in the road
i follow a metaphor
home