Plethora of Poems

The Beauty of Zipporah

Little girl playing with make-up brushes and powders.

Imagining her grown-up days.

She is me. I was she playing with my Mommy’s Avon.

Hermes in the Hood ~ Our Ghetto Mercury

Young man perched atop his walker waiting at bus stop. Wings on his sneakers. Secretly envisaging flight in his heart. Yearning to dance gracefully on twisted limbs.

From Dusk to Dawn

I am that Shadowy writer moving effortlessly through time and space.

The Fly escaped from the ointment now on the wall unnoticed but listening, observing yet not observed.

Carefully chronicling lives off the bottom edge of the social pyramid. Outcasts, commuters, proles and misfits captured in words and pictures.

In the midst yet far from the realm of the vexing insanity and loitering bubbling mass hordes.

The day is beautiful but the nocturnal dominions beckon. Enthralling, enchanting and invigorating twilight wanderings.

Stardust mixed with fleshy moving throngs. Magical mystical allures of waning daylight hours when the masque is removed and truth revealed.