I was once curiously asked:
"Why write poetry?
Does it pay the bills?"

I replied with a smile:
"It does far more than that -
it heals."

Everywhere
there's talent
indeed great talent
of very form
but sadly
so little
comes into
their true essence
for some reason
strangely unknown
to the person

just like
the fairest flower
being  unseen
with its petals
all blown
and strewn
by the wind
and drop silently
upon
some lonely
corner
to be
swept away
into a hidden '
drain-
ah, all such beauty
drowned
and has ended
all in vain!

Such loss
such grievous pain!

I saw an Angel in my dream.
She said she would fulfill any wish I have.
"Should I make you the best ?"she asked.
"No,"said I.
"Just a little better than yesterday.
That will do."

"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

all that pain
and belittlement
you served me
day and night
when no one
was looking
made the little
man within you
feel much, much,
much bigger
but now you
stand before me
weeping
with no teeth
and the big man
within me
has forgiven you.