Monday, October 18, 2010


wide wind,
crackling fire,
rushing water,
turning soil,
red sun,
open sky,
gypsy reads the lines in my hands,
psychic sees I'm gonna die,
pyramid the heart and mind,
to see the soul's third eye,
old pastor's certain I'm going to hell,
angel says "it's hard to tell,"
Devil whispers "it could be worse,"
white light gonna shoot through every dark verse,
old master's whiskey heats on the hearth,
baby sleeps,
and dreams about a new, blue earth.


Square Corner said...

You're firing these poems off. You gotta join Poet's United. These poems deserve a wider audience.

Old Ollie said...

that old pastor should take the log out of his eye

sweet flowing verse

Fisheye Lens said...

Pry open that third eye, Dox. Even if it takes a crowbar from your toolbox. Are the 2011 Snap-On calendars out yet?

I can't believe the productivity and general excellence of all the blogs since I've been otherwise occupied. Looking to get back into Union 241 very soon -- at least the account hasn't been deactivated yet.

Psycho Culture said...

I have been reading your poems, stumbled upon you. Love your work and your blog. Look forward to reading you...

I loved this piece...