I embrace the night
it is late at night,
the poetry comes, it flows
like ink through my fingers...

Where does it come from?
maybe from the foggy basement
of my minds eye like the hurricane
blowing and sprouting forth as a volcano...

Could it be verbatim drenched in misery?
or an externalization of inward seeking?
Perhaps a restless soul seeking shelter
from the fury storm of emptiness...

Maybe it's the full moon
or misinterpreted star charts.
I watch Taurus collide with Orion
and wish upon a falling star...

It is way past midnight,
the ghosts they call once more,
perhaps I'll take a drive in my car
while the steering wheel turns like a clock

through my empty hands.
I go home to reach for my pen
and set the grandfather clock back
only to to write all over again...