Kevin Patrick Biography

There is no point running backwards
retracing stolen footprints
in anticlockwise course
time cant reverse force
...

A rose grows in the night
Lit beneath the diamond lights
Petals smooth in silken magic
Blossom crimson shaded fabric
...

Blind is the ocean to the sound of its motion
As it roars with momentum of immeasurable melody
Ushering its whitecaps of sinuous elocution
Against the gold Shorelines with foam balm fidelity
...

The waxing span of the silver moon
Calls to the breeze of the winters chill
The brittle arms of the lone Birch
Lay still to the frost but are not deterred
...

I am not a poet
But a linguistic Beachcomber
Scouring the pleated sandy shores
For whatever grimy grains of meaning
...