Poetry usually happens
when nothing else happens
The Jazz can’t save ya
The TV can’t save ya
The Tango can’t save ya
The swanky attitude can’t save ya
They all come to an end, you see
The still air and needle sharp walls
are the dearest friends
who
slowly digest your bones
inch by inch
with a total triumph smile
Close your eyes
when truth reveals on supper time
Stretch your legs
when east wind blows on your bedside
Free in It
Free as a pretty fly
Nothing to lose
Nothing to gain
Ready, ready for all
All
or
Nothing at all
