A Desperate Soul



A desperate soul,

with an ire that rages like

wind. Fitful outbreaks


between wistful thoughts

of melancholy and high

spirits. Changeable


disposition, with

vagaries and feral needs;

a lust for relief.


A shoulder on which

to lean, sorrowful and mild.

Frailties that ring clear.


My Bambinos


I know a tousle haired pixie,

and her feet never touch the ground.

She’s a child so pink and ditzy,

always looking to fool around.


And I know a strong-willed stripling,

as bullish as a charging train.

Forever scribbling and fiddling,

and looking to make his escape.


And they have an older brother,

contrasting in every way.

Quiet as if undercover,

and obsessed by video games.

Ode To My Bed


You are wide like the sweeping night,


and you are wrought like a hulking


Grenadier. A protective cage,


welcoming to the sick and stale.




You are plum like the rising sun;


and you remain privy to my


secrets. Though I do not know if I can


trust you, one so knowledgeable.




Your gossipy joints threaten to


disclose my secrets; but I shall


forgive your prattling in exchange


for a sleep inducing cuddle.