sitting at the table of life
the truth of my blood; my heritage...

there be times I would like to dig up their...
the head of rotter’s row...

she guided my hand
and allowed me to touch the source of life...

my heart may not have eyes and ears
but that is where I am at...

I have never once pretended to be godly
if nothing else I understand the human need of...

at the crossroads I stand tall
help me in my weakness...

Across the road; I find myself standing
majority of one...

the sky on fire?
no need for anger no need for blame...

cut roses the symbol of dyeing
beauty to crumbling...

do you know what makes poverty the worst?
it’s the educated mind...

the “I” in me!
I find myself writing these poems...

It all goes on between the lines
Hidden in plain sight...