Long Forager Poems

Bloody leftist a wrist tuck crat!

Fingers of left hand cried freedom,
detached themselves and declared
mutiny gesticulating thumb thing
awful, than furiously haughtily
prancing, skittering, zipping,...
as self important independent digits

indiscriminately deleting one after
another email, mine eyes gleaned
subject pertaining to...

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A final song to sing
Life is getting hard
Not a thing you can do 
Day dreaming
Thinking of what tomorrow may bring you
One more song to sing

Voice of an asylum forager
Choice to become a cultural voyager
Pictures are...

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The things we bury within our mind
like a ravenous forager returning a find
all the cracks between our multiple side
along with the secrets we try to hide
drowning in illusory shames false tide

respectability can be a curse
not...

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UTOPIA
Land of endless time
Dreams of infinite range
Sweet, succulent, fine
A city without age

UTOPIA
Shinning in expansive glory
A lighthouse for weary souls,
Rid of war’s flashing gory,
A home without Holes.

UTOPI
An Eden in splendor
This Heaven on earth
Void of division of...

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I am jumping on a trampoline doing a waltz of wrapping nothing
and an explanation will come handy to explain the I do not care
the christmas tree of like better the thanks giving not involving

but a...

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Imagine me the creature in broad daylight 
with green metallic crest
as I flaunt a copper plumage wild and free
whilst feathering my nest
native of the Himalayan range I scale
the sun drenched mountain peaks
the zoom and swoop...

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a flower I am not
a contest I do not enter
I am a free spirit to share the world
of knowledge and a life for a moment
the wrench of eyes dropping tears
a nose to smell the wonder...

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I am the hawk, the falcon, the eagle
circling the skies, swooping with the winds
that roar through gold and carmine canyons.
I soar to hunt, to pursue, to feed.
Gliding on ageless currents of thermal energies
exploding through the...

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Death is Not the Living’s Fear


Is there life before the dying
Or preparation for the end?
Solitary gauntlet dash
Predetermined dust and ash?
Leveraged buyout of a soul
Darkened light of final hole.
Belief stripped naked in a field
No saintly symbols...

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I want to taste the new ruffled orange mushrooms Lilly Watt said.
they are known as “chicken of the woods” on oak trees not dead.
shaggy ink caps were jealous, as were bioluminescent blues.
faerie mushrooms danced a...

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