This is my poetry book.  I’m the guy dining al fresco and the wine steward is my youngest son, Joey.  The freeway could be anywhere, USA.

I am going to give away the contents of this book free.  Well, sort of.

I do not claim to be a poet however this book was one of those projects that just would not stay contained.  Taken in context each entry is part of a narrative arc.  Or perhaps more correctly, a narrative sine wave.

It began as a reflection upon where the heck I am and how did I get here and very loosely follows a lifetime of ups and downs, plentitude and pratfalls.  The book contains sixty-six pages.

I have numbered sixty-six slips of paper.  My plan is to pull two at random and post whatever is written on the corresponding pages.  I don’t have a timeline for completing this, just something to do as time and tide permit.

This approach will result in the entries being posted totally out of context thereby eliminating the story arc but for those who might be interested there is the “look inside” feature on Amazon.

My first drawn numbers are eight and thirty-six.  So, here goes:

KITTENS AND PLANTS

Each lovable in its own way

Each asking just a little of your time

Time that I jealously hoard for myself

How can a rational man

Envy a few strokes

Given a droopy-leafed fern

&

A scruffy black and white mouser?

__________________________________________________________

I’M NOT ASLEEP

Lying here on this sweat-soaked cot

In this Godforsaken flop

Somewhere between New Jersey

And Nevermore.

AND I’M NOT ASLEEP

Groping in trash filled corners

For those glassy friends

Long drained of their fear quenching potion

AND I’M NOT ASLEEP

Staring out through dirt-streaked windows

Seeing shackle-free clouds

Scudding across the full moon’s face

AND I’M NOT ASLEEP

Knees tucked tight against chest

Choking back a scream of terror

Screaming: I’m not asleep

NO, I AM NOT ASLEEP

Scaled bellies trail paths across the ceiling

While yellow fanged rats

Wait patiently, hungrily for my sleep

AND I’M NOT ASLEEP

Sleep is buried now

Dormant in a hillside plot

Since twenty lifetimes ago

Its heart staked by a Judas kiss

AND SLEEP CAN COME NO MORE.