After the druggery of
the day I retire to
my cocoon of solice..
The Poet's lair
The muse will not dance
unless I summit to the
wiles of the infinite
everything..
Then.. the sounds of
molodious phrase emerge
from the shadows where
apples may be oranges
if you please..
I may even drain my
consciousness into a
wine glass and let
the north wind sip
the intangible nothingness
of mortal mind-light and
and disperse the enity
of the me-you into the
barren fields of starving
hearts..
This I say..is the path
to the Poet's Lair~