It’s quiet in here.

You could hear a pin drop.

But it’s not pleasant,

Only vacant.


It’s not half full.

It’s dry as a bone.

And there’s not an echo,

Because there’s not a voice.


It’s a quiet place,

Where I hide.

There’s NOTHING there;

So I don’t count

Published in: on May 25, 1994 at 3:50 am  Leave a Comment  
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I am a fetus

Within the womb of Earth,

Waiting to be born

Into the afterlife.


I was conceived

By the gods

And this womb is only

A temporary home.


Spirits are placenta;

And my breath is my umbilical cord.

When I am born,

It will be cut off.

Published in: on May 25, 1994 at 12:18 am  Leave a Comment  
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The Fisherman

He will tempt them.
They will give in.
He hides his gaff,
And charms their simple minds.
They struggle for a moment.
They fight for one last breath.
One greedy intention; a twisted perception,
Fell prey to the king of the food chain.
They secrete their anguish-
He’s such a sport.
Inefficient gluttony
Rejected for the massive one.
Published in: on May 7, 1994 at 4:40 pm  Leave a Comment  
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