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This week, a friend read my chapbooks and called my style "DEEP." :-)

About half of my poems are actually lyrics for songs in various stages of birth.

This one fits both descriptions. Enjoy.

You can run
until you run away
I’ve done it all my life
Never stop until you drop
beyond a trail of wounded strife

You can fix
until you’re wagon’s fixed
Whatever fills your time
Pack your days in purple haze
till there’s no mountain left to climb

You can screw
until you screw it up
whichever way you please
Suck the life from sorrow’s wife
then live your own upon your knees

Run for hell in desperation
with your knuckles burning white
or desist, resist temptation
God, yes.
Give up without a fight.

I’m uncomfortable with normal
I don’t trust myself at ease
Think I’ve got to dress up formal
to disguise my wise disease

When there’s nothing left to turn from
but that mirror-gazing face,
will I find myself to learn from,
will I ever earn my place?

I can’t run
but I can’t ever stay
Why do you think I care?
I can’t cleave to or deceive you
so I’ll purify despair

I can’t lose
until I’ve lost it all
and tumble from my cloud
Keep myself on my high shelf
then fall and stumble through the crowd

I can’t stop
until I stop myself
I treat myself unkind
I can’t change my crazy thoughts,
but maybe I can change my mind?

Run for hell in desperation
with my knuckles burning white
or desist, resist temptation
God, yes.
Give up without a fight.

Hell, no.
Give up and let me go.

That’s right.
Give up without a fight.