There was a man
who sat at the corner
bus stop.
Beside him was
a paper bag with cups
in it.
Why does he sit
at the corner bus stop
staring?
He is alone,
without a home to go
home to.
What does he see
sitting at the bus stop
alone?
He sees nothing.
There is nothing at all
to see.
Sometimes I feel
like the man at the cor-
ner stop.
This poem was written in February 1988 during a time when I was writing a lot of love poetry. My Love is as sweet as the nectar of the honeysuckle the laughing call of gulls the soft breath of a babe He is as pleasant as the sun upon my back the wind in my…
Here is another poem about D.B., written in 1983. Oh! How I love you, You little ball of fur. Your little booted feet, up to your little white chin. Your long, soft fur is a comfort when I’m sad. Your watchful eyes help me see clearly that you love me as much as I love…
Written Feb. 15, 1991. Feed me I’m hungry Hungry for Knowledge Love Understanding Am I a gaping wound or a black hole? The analogy is moot when compared to my hunger my need my desire Help me I’m drowning drowning in an ocean of famine of frustration of possible ignorance You hold the food that…
Every morning I take a walk around town or along the beach for 40-60 minutes. I always take my camera with me just in case I see something I’d like to share with others or use as inspiration. This morning, while walking back home from a workout at a local Curves, I took this picture…
Written Feb. 26, 1992. Paradise is space to grow to expand to soar like a bird wind in my hair in my wings in my sails pushing me along the sea Paradise is the warmth of the sun caressing my skin gently freedom to be anything I want including nothing Paradise is the sweet taste…
One of my goals for this year is to get better at relationships. Since I kind of failed in my marriage, my goal is to get it right next time. One of the pieces of advice I’ve been following is this: To attract your soul mate, you must feel that your soul mate is already…
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