this ain't abt a poet

{inside me are the heart of the savage & the blood of the beast,

bridled & rode hard by the spirit of the poet, in the name of

adventure & art.}

I started this wandering

            a long time ago.

expectations were high

            but the payoff was low.

the road never took me

            to a silver-strand shore,

but to cities of labor

            & to jungles of war.

there were days lost in thunder

            when the sky would scream.

these were tempered by nights

            I made love in a dream.

on my desolate high-ways

            there were times that I found

a friend or a faith

            to which I could be bound.

after years in the sun

            I’ll reflect in the shade

of the loves that I’ve lost

            & the friends that I’ve made.

my heart still reminds me

            that it could have been worse,

to have missed Nature’s beauty

            & the glory of verse.

now the road is short

            & I’m gettin’ old.

& this poem is over  -

            my story is told.