Cooked Oranges: Poems

Poetic inspiration continues to be a mystery to me, but I am its deep advocate, and hold to its irrational and shady acreage like a greedy real estate developer gazing out over the possibilities a ramshackle hut here, a barn there, a castle with a lake yonder.... Is it angels, djinn, my black cat curled at the bottom of my bed while I'm hot in composition mode My "unconscious," "God Consciousness " my fervent prayer.