Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

When I am asked
how I began writing poems,
I talk about the indifference of nature.

It was soon after my mother died,
a brilliant June day,
everything blooming.

I sat on a gray stone bench
in a lovingly planted garden,
but the day lilies were as deaf
as the ears of drunken sleepers
and the roses curved inward.
Nothing was black of broken
and not a leaf fell
and the sun blared endless commercials
for summer holidays.

She caught the lightening, and
conducted it in swirls

Pirouettes, whirling dervish devilish svelte

All on the perimeter observed this,
circular orchestration of light
guided by human form

And felt they were seeing unborn,
a love they would never know,
He watched from the shadows,

She, the light-rope tamer, walker of dreams,
within the ring surpassed all things imagined,
held us captive, like drooling circus clowns

BY JOHN KEATS
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power

Voice recording
https://soundcloud.com/user-391664655/to-hell-in-a-tin-tube-1

Bing bong,
The next train to depart from platform 12a
will be the 11.20 to Manchester Victoria.

Check watch, plenty of time
still, quicken pace
in case ………
In case it leaves early,
which it won't,
but it might,
so I hasten
trying not to spill my paper cup coffee.

Reaching sanctity
Instilling security
True serenity

Mist pools in my old green eyes
as I recall those times long gone
in days which fled like butterflies.
I mask my tears with a false yawn
(as if somebody's here to see)
how much those now gone meant to me.

The noon sun pours down
Over the swim-up bar
Over the girls with perfect bodies
Sent here to celebrate
Mi Cabo
They can drink and they do, and do
I’m too old but
They buy me shots anyway
These cute girls
Sort of bitchy I must say
Probably spoiled
But assumptions aren’t nice
So more shots it is
Probably make perfect
Del Mar housewives
With hobbies and protests
PETA and the PTA
While they step over the Homeless
Newest cell phones and places to be