by James Gould
alone with no one to love
longing my constant comrade
halfway fills my heart
sun gazed upon
burns
moon likes us to look
warble huddles from
driven frozen white
waiting without song
for fragrant plum petals
In the past, I was a patent litigator. In the present I am a motorcyclist, a world traveler, a learning-to-be-writer and a devourer of books and New York City culture.