The Straits

Like a trick of the darkness
the colorless void is given life
word by word, by crafting hands
a seductive breath into each line

You hope the right keys be stroked
in time to the rhythm and rumble
of everything around you
that you so dearly love;

The hottest blood flows
from the pen of one who knows
love within the dimly lit borders
of this motorized city at the straits
the colors bled are all and none
but recognize you as their own
by the warm true light
bleeding through the darkness

Yep, It's me. Had to update you with a pic. Check it, I'm a hippie hockey player wannabe poet guy.

It's a busy time of year and I have a lot on my plate. I'll talk more about it all as plans become more concrete. It involves moving across the country, and finding work since I miss eating quite a bit. Damn Maslow and his silly hierarchy.

Even this poem was pulled from the dusty archives. Sure, I refreshed it and all, but really it's old and I am pensive about showing my old stuff. I would rather create new, I'm sure you understand.

Hope to be getting back to you all soon.

Peace out.