Category Archives: PROG-PROSE

THIS DREAM WAS THE FIRST .. .

This dream was the first .. . . This dream was the first   it woke me alarmed andcovered in damp persuasion  of believing myself  a gangster on the run  born to play Machieveli I, who held my own,  alone … Continue reading

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THE RULING CLASS .. .

The Ruling Class .. . . . . . On the island where your rules are waves of the sea your rules that surround me innocent and brave I must face them alone who has time to create rules fish … Continue reading

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ENDLESS THE MARCH IN TIME .. .

endless the march in time .. . .. . .. the endless march in time           and the beat of your heartI see the wolves teeth bared         and hear the threatening thunderthe … Continue reading

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ON ROAD THE 600 .. .

ON THE ROAD – HIGHWAY 600 .. . . .. and I am a painter shocking with a stanley brush or a stanley knife the truth is out and squirming two daisy flowers lie bruised on the concrete floor that … Continue reading

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PERFORMANCE ART – With the Voices In My Head .. .

PERFORMANCE ART .. . With the Voices In My Head .. . with the voices in my head I lay me down to sleep with the voices in my head with the voices in my head I lay me down … Continue reading

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I AM THE DOG WHISPERER

I am the dog whisperer! I am treason I am subterfugeI am carnality in a hot dog sausageabandon hope ye dogs of warlay your weapons on the floor I am the dog whispererI speak of honest toil and sweatupon the … Continue reading

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kyrie eleison .. .

kyrie eleison .. . I stepped by the mythical tree whose branches dressed in copper whose arms reach out ever upward trained on the ghost of Jacob Marley her boughs and sprays convolvulate lavish, adorned, purpled of paradoxicality awkward, leaning … Continue reading

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NAKED AND UNASHAMED .. .

Naked and Unashamed .. . I run free my pieces jangling   run to the crashing sea I run shouting unashamed   my arms vainly embracing the moon   the wind grazing my flesh I run still wondering   in … Continue reading

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ME AND WALT WHITMAN .. .

Me and Walt Whitman .. . .. We grew out of Long Island, ManhattanIt is where my father died, I am not afraidto speak of it, my father wrote of Watergateme and Walt we wrote it down together Walt and … Continue reading

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ALWAYS BEGIN AGAIN .. .

Always begin again .. . .. Have you seen the swifts departing or heard their solemn call across the housetops, the smudge of bronze-brick chimneys a hoar frost hanging grey, the scoop skin of ripe, wild blueberry we had been … Continue reading

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