I actually keep all my poetry on a Xanga site because, well, quite frankly … that’s where all the poets hang out.  The ones I like, anyway.

Here’s the link:  Nefarious Jerrius

Just to wet your appetite, though, here’s a few of my personal favorites…

Trip Without Destination

She calls out his name
The brown sedan keeps driving
There shines no brake lights

She sits, cold concrete
Does not want to move or talk
He is gone for good

Motor sounds, smell of exhaust
Many shoes crunching endless paths
A bus pulls up, stops

She looks, driver smiles
Doors open and then breathes warm air
Standing, life goes on

Leaden feet carry her
Up three steps, walk down the aisle
Bus seat is grimy

Long hours pass the day
Trip without destination
She stares out window

Familiar streets now
She gets off the bus, walking
Shock, his car is home

Running to the door
He meets her in the doorway
The love is still there

Eternal Summer Dream

Creatures of shadow, light and dark,
Weighing nearly nothing
Drifting like wind-borne mist
Past the fitted stone and ancient archways
The long grass under the tangled branches.

When the afternoon sun beats down
With the pressure of a dry August heat
They rest in a quiet summer dream
Of past years and childhood games
Of restless yearnings and the touch of someone fond
A time spent long ago.

When the sun drifts down, finally
They stir in the evening twilight
And wander aimlessly, sleepwalking
Dimly aware of who they were
And what they are now.

When footsteps quietly come
They drum like claps of thunder
And all still they watch
As a young couple
Wander arm in arm through the courtyard
Hardly more than children
There’s a hush as they pause and kiss
There’s a rush of life and joy
And as the two walk aimlessly along, they follow,
The follow along, just follow, watching,
Watching, the night itself watching,
Just watching

And as the sun brightens the sky
And as the lovers sleep
They pause to wistfully touch the life
Then drift past the cold archways
And etched stone
To the place they lie dreaming
Just dreaming, holding onto what they’d touched
Until the sunlight melts it away.