Sprawling Ink

The pen is the thing imagination flows
from--the mind of insanity
and the glowing words appear
as if from thin air,
as if the pen conducts a symphony
from the bony hand of a writer,
and has no intention of playing
the soon-to-be masterpiece of words
that will eventually inspire someone,
sprawling ink in an old
hand’s half cursive style
streaming consciousness.

The Wesley Album

In time for the morning dosage of pills and breakfast,
Wesley joins the mass of congregated patients.
some sit in the small cafeteria, some stand
and some wander about by the windows,
looking through the double pained plexi and asylum bars.
the wheelchair abandoned in a dark hallway corner
by the bedrooms testifies to schizophrenia,
or maybe a stomach growled too loud-

Killing Men

I saw a woman cry before,
but not with grief or pain--
her fingers stroking through his hair,
dripping red disdain.

A hummingbird suspended there,
and suckled nectar feast--
while watching I with deep rapport,
felt one with the deceased.

The Freedom Spaces

the freedom spaces
in beauty of movement
and presence presents magnificence
strong all around
this way and that way
betray what will one day be
wild wind silhouetted
opportunity