For my days are consumed like smoke...

I am like a pelican of the wilderness

I am like an owl of the desert

words from that one hundred and second psalms

 ...and thy years shall have no end

...and the dog by his side

he kneels in the dark
in the shadow of the spires
in the passes by of liars
bones bent over stone
and streets dim with despair
his empty hands waits
and wants
and longs
his heart a silent bell
tolling and unknown hell
hidden by the city gates
beating out a sound
a humbled pride
one day will abound
and the dog by his side

circles unbroken
life is full of perceptions of disconnection,
but it's all circles,
though the clocks are sometimes not wound as tightly,
and we are all made of gears of varying degree,
and when the new moon is put rightly,
all these moments circles back to thee. 

Strange? yes it is and was, even we climbed the stairs,
or when I too walked in Prague, and you were there... 

Inxs-Never Tear us Apart (complete version)

from steps in LA
to stones and bones of CZ

the bride comes at night

the groom waits on the holy hill
above the city,
the city that sleeps
in deaths dream
fallen in the darkness
but in the shadow still
the wedding bond
brings together
the lost with the found
and the communion of body with bone,
in the morning bright
the name,
the white stone

The Soft Roaring...

In Munich
where I met with the new unknown
the I don't know
the silent self
the next to sex
the truth
the endless other
like the river
over and over again
new and temporary stream
the empty only filled
by the source in a dream
then quietly
wait
   wait
            waiting
drawing and sketching
telling the story
the experience seen
and through the ink
the invisible
the inconceivable
giant
tiny
me

Faire des ricochets

Canal de St Martin

Prague inside Prayer

I walk with my lonesome soul
past the scream of the tormented mind
the female falling
with devil in hand
spills of  ink
the twisted self
then
smoke in the breath
stone carved street
the near smell of death
and wandering thoughts
and wandering feets
meet the cold December night
in the shadow of spires and liars
to drink pure the
excellence of  a walk through a sketch
and revel slow
 I exist