Now at Solo Poetry...

Inside of me the tempest spins
gleefully tearing my breath
from rotting lungs
spilling life into a frozen soul,
leaving no room for rememberance.

On Saturday,
sauntering down soot black roads,
drifting across the double yellow --
this is the place where I can't be old,
where two thousand voices
scream in my mind to let it all go.

Sweet, like raisins in peccadillo
or the soundtrack of Garden State --
sweating lilacs and listening to Nick Drake,
you know she's spinning in my mind.

Struck by her tickling hair
and razor lips (her voice is
feathers falling in my ears) --
Lightening is supposed to kill a man.

I'm standing on the moon
dancing with the earth.

Flux between a soul and nonsense ( Read more... )

In fall, Rome burns colored ( Read more... )

Moved website to http://solotto.blogspot.com

So afraid of stepping on toes ( Read more... )

Thoughts are poured concrete ( Read more... )

My eyes spewing judgement ( Read more... )

Shadow found youth flickers ( Read more... )