Spices of Mare Nostrum 

 Cinnamon will save my soul

all ground to powder in my distilled drink

take me back to the Milvian Bridge

I'd like a conversion

girls grabbing at my heart

and my attention 

you can't have it

four wheels moves the body, two wheels moves the

soul.

my prayers are all poems 

and my poems are a prayer

we don't need to go south of the Sahara

civilization stops here

rulers of the Mediterranean with

brown eyes and brown hair

temple columns are trite but soft hills and olive 

trees are a dream of your body

and my arms are Herculean and your

scent soft and sweet

cinnamon and religion 

cardamom and mystery

a breeze, a buttcheek and white silk upon thee

 Words to the Wind

I keep my coffee close and my hardhat clean

water for my son

coffee for me

I still think about Violet

the color of royalty 

power my pursuit 

and so was she

and baby you don't have to lie to me

wireman welders don't have feelings 

but the feelings I had for the purple are overwhelming 

the color of sunrise

over Midwestern skies

all ghosts and words to the wind

number my days and leave me to my sins

I bought her flowers then gave them to the Virgin

I would have forgotten you, Violet 

if it weren't for that wind

and I'm moving on

with no heart in the game

I've been heartless - myself to blame

a product of Achilles rage

an Odyssey of more of the same

night and day

work and play

these words and wind are all grey

I'm a man of the finest burial shroud

but I have nothing to say

just wind

on the Indiana plains.