I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.

‎"she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.

you fall into the mirror,
come through the other
side
staring at a lightbulb.

a pro does as well as he can within what
he has set out to do
and a madman
does exceptionally well at what
he can't help
doing.

Christmas poem to a man in jail

hello Bill Abbott:
I appreciate your passing around my books in
jail there, my poems and stories.
if I can lighten the load for some of those guys with
my books, fine.
but literature, you know, is difficult for the
average man to assimilate (and for the unaverage man too);
I don't like most poetry, for example,
so I write mine the way I like to read it.

and the color in my eyes
has gone back into the sea.