I am a 2nd year philosophy major at Idaho state university, I have a ten month old girl who is growing at breakneck speeds and my most selfish pleasure is black coffee and camel cigarettes at three in the morning in a coffee shop with one or two good friends.
Included here is a recent poem inspired by a dream and moonlight as so many poems are.
follow
sitting on an old rusty radiator
looking out of a pullshut
pull window
late at night with trains squealing
in blackness
and a horrible movie unrolling on the television
smoking when i know i should not
and watching the moon trace out
the tiles of my kitchen floor
reaching with my eyes
through a latch work screen
and a forboding three-paned
window
reaching to soak up the
borrowed light of the moon
smoke tendrils from cigarette twisting off
and out through said screen rising to the moon
and smoke and the moon hunkering down on tree
limbs overhanging China and the breeze
blowing the non-black hair over Confucias’
bald pate and him forgetting to say
You are late