POEM: OCCULTED MAN, WAITS.

A thousand years inside a stone, at the bottom of a frozen...lake. Glacier slow the earth reactors warmed it, the sun dried up the lake. New green showed it's tender leaves. And crowding in around, and thought it theirs.   Years flicker in time, like bubbles in clear glass. Images from one brief life, onto the next. I've lived a life of just one day and lived also a hundred years...

IN THE JAWS OF THE BLACK DOG: Part 2

... I have reached a measure of greater understanding of who I am, and am proud of my abilities, the skills and talents I have had to achieve just to remain off the street and not a homeless man. To have taken advantage fully of the many gifts personally, but have not achieved the success in those that I should have had, all those that were given, along with the emotional baggage and emotional immaturity and insecurity and weirdness sometimes that I can be. I am a greater artist even though, condition stopped me from painting. I have made many inroads into music and my guitar and carpentry and working with my hands; my writing of poetry and storytelling which has helped me to develop a way into my own mind and find out where I falter with language. I am an obsessive dictionary reader, always unsure of my use of the language...