While sitting amongst the 18th Century Danish ruins on the island of St. John in the Virgin Islands, I was inspired to write a poem:

Night shot above Waterlemon Cay on St John, USVI

Drunk inside a lucid dream

Drunk inside a lucid dream

Bright sky blue anneal my lids

Sun glare searing, prying, baking

Welcome wind whirling, sating

Green upon green, life’s redoubt

Smugly assail shrines to man

Ancient warfare at glacial speed

Sprigs of vigor making sand

Sky sculpted by wind and cloud

Denizens immersed in airy mass

Swim on atmospheres’ heady foundation

Soaring, climbing, swirling and searching, going no where someplace fast

Out of the oven, shaking off sweat 

Eating colors with my mind yet 

Shadows hide shades of grey that harbor gradients of black decay

Spectrums succumb to the waning sun the dying the day is finally done

Time is gliding, creaking and corroding

Melting, bleeding, sputtering and foaming

Polished reality spews a fluid focus

Of dreamland impulses drowned in glorious numbness.  

Danish Runs on St John, USVI

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