Sometimes you got to beat the cry in the gutter;
Beat the clock in the matter of letters this is the solemn sound;
of a poet - when poetry moves from mind to gold from bringing to color
to kind eternal function to flesh life can be a tunnel a wound
unmanage your tongue here - Un Press to beat yourself
The hint of tierra, please
The ghost to steal a garment
The ness confessions of learning
Hang your lyrics on liken slumps
Until you satisfy your tears
copyright 2011
