I. Indoors; outdoors

Outside; inside

Sunlight; tubelight

The poet must choose


II. Lights on

Lights off

The glow of the computer illuminates

the poet’s minds


III. Turn to a fresh new page

Clean, blank –limitless

Grabbing the pen, 

the poet begins


IV. Look out or look in

What do you want to see?

Tell us, poet, what inspires



V. Write


Imagine you are a poet.


Forget everything else

Poetry is your calling,

for these next few minutes

Can you describe it?


What is the point of a poem?
Of poetry, in general

Do you know?

Does anyone?


A poet looks out at the world

Takes in the world; breathes it in

And lets out meaning; Writes meaning


Meaning is life;

What the poet

sees, hears, does

from his glasses


His point of view

Your point of view.

Can you do it?

Should you do it?



A poet reads

No he devours

Others’ works


Reads to steal


Not the superficial language

Not the words that are on the page

A poet’s theft is far deeper –more meaningful

Thoughts and ideas


An idea

can change everything

An idea

is a poet’s strongest weapon


A weapon to cause


A weapon to cause

what he wants


Pablo said, ‘Bad artists copy,

Good artists steal’

What kind is a Poet?

This road

This road’s going somewhere. I don’t know where, but it intrigues me so I’m going to follow it. The literal road I’m on is third avenue and that has definite destination that most of us know. Right now I’m headed back home. And that is a road I sure as hell want to follow. It leads to the most important thing in my life, at this very moment in time. That’s my bed. Sleep. The very thought of it makes me feel all soft inside. I taunt myself with images and thoughts about getting into bed under the nice warm covers and surrendering to sleep. God knows that this is a battle I fight every day. And he must know why too because the answer eludes me. I want sleep. I crave it. And yet when the time comes, the final moment when I am ready and I have decided that it is finally time; the time for sleep has finally arrived, she runs away from me. I picture her laughing at me. Giggling gently, thinking about me as some poor sod. It is a nightly dance, that Sleep and I, we partake in and she is constantly leading. I try to fight back, to grab control of the reigns and lead, because I am supposed to lead, and yet my efforts are futile. She is in total control and I struggle to think back to a time when I was in total control. The very thought seems idiotic. But I haven’t yet gotten to that stage yet. I’m still walking back so it hasn’t occurred to me, just as yet. I pretend as if I don’t know that I’m about to take part in this dance.

Everyday is a new, fresh day.

I tell myself.

Les Textos

“Will 2025 be anything like today?”

“I feel like I need some coffee. Even though I don’t feel tired at all. I want coffee. I feel like I need. Does that make sense?”

“How do you know what you want? Is it a thought, hmmm I want that. OR is it an insatiable urge. I need that!”

“To be sure that I remember how to write, I often sit down in odd places and just write. About anything.”


A blank page lets you write what you
A blank canvas lets you paint what you
A blank room lets you decorate it like you
A blank house lets you design it like you
A blank office lets you organize it like you
A blank world doesn’t
A blank life lets you change the one we live
A blank _______ lets you do whatever you
Just choose a

Watching that ticking Clock

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Time passes us by
When we aren’t looking

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
The key is is
that life is too short

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Yet we still play these

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
We can’t ever cut
right to the chase.

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Don’t ever look 
at the clock

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Waste your time
playing games

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Do that, and
your life won’t ever come back.

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Go. Waste.
That’s what we all do.

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Waste. Those precious

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Seconds that can
change your life

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
And Forever.

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.