A Tiny Heart

The size of an almond

With a personality the size

Of the room

Our small dog

Named Wilco

May have a small heart

But fills the room with love

When anyone walks in

Sweet little Wilco

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One Fine Day

A fine day

Is coming

When we believe

Not in celebrity

But in each other

That day

Is coming

One fine day

Trolls

Trolls have nowhere else to go

Lurking for flat moments

Growing thick like mold

Trolls roll up their sleeves

To sow discord

In a world that needs to be healed

Refilled with love

So the trolls can roll away

March 24th

A great day to get out

My birthday is a day

To celebrate a new schools

Of voices rising up

In a dark time

So that in due time

We will have hope again

Such a coincidence

But on March 24th people rise

Up

To believe again

That we can all accomplish something

With the help is our fellow

Countrymen

A Hope for Past Future

Can the future be brighter

If the past is not reckoned

How to know where to go

If we do not understand

What we have done

My role in this nowness

Is key to the future

I have played my own role

Ambivalently

But with more passion we approach

The future

Bombay Cafe

In the heart of London

Where the isles are winding

To the heart of the city

We dine

One Monet moment

At a time

Wooden counters

With airy old jazz numbers

Fumbling along

With a reserved evening

In the heart of London

Spilled Milk on the Red Line

Spilled milk on the Red Line

Veins of white

Rush down the floor

“That ain’t mine”

The lady with two hats on yells

The man

Visibly exhausted with his head back

Is not one inch close to conscious

As the white pours through the isle

Pictures being snapped

A moment catches

The woman with the bike laughs

Late night Red Line

Public transportation

Strange spilled iterations

As the winds wind through

The tunnels

Below the streets

Of L.A.

Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Round the Corner

The simple smell

Can trigger so many memories

Roasting coffee

In Williamsburg

Takes me to years

On the road

So fresh and clean

Yet Smokey and full

The roast roars our into the air

Aggressive

And bringing back

Memories of good times