Just a few of my pencil sketches during the last 2+ years. May combine them with poems or a 100-150 page poetic epic for another book project... I don't know... Verses below from my 9th book...
O to learn from past spurns, withal, hearts always callow
Within fervor’s fury, Passion smolders as cloth in tallow
Beguiled, wiled, maybe a bit maudlin (often lovers’ coffin)
Such uncoiling as mortals collide, an erotic storm therein
Singed wings by old flings, or some other goddamn thing
Wounds to scars, hang far into mind, on sullied brass rings
Liken black-lighted rooms, archetypal galleries of Self-art
Jungian pelf on psychotic carts, pile high as none departs
No one imparts dissimilar, for bent as this is quite familiar
Mortals’ birthright, Strife (oft miswritten as Life), millers
As such, and much if not all, burns as fire, as well warms
Ill, fraught, still sought, some reason amid passion’s norms
Two souls stumble and struggle, past the doors and closets
Down Fear’s hall, groping mid walls scrawled with posits
Harshest of truths, rarely sleuthed, either animus or anima
Keener incubus, or inner vox humana as morning’s manna
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