I'm not a poet. I haven't studied poetry; I don't even read it extensively. My poetry can best be described as brief bursts, (what I hope is) artful commentary on people, events, emotions I find worthy of examining. Here are a few samples from my "brief burst" repertoire:

2000
These poems were created with a magnetic poetry set (and probably, copious amounts of beer).

Steel color
Chilled feast
Perfect moon
Strange sleep
~
Shadowing hour:
the red storm
snows secrets
~
Drop through the dream
for what ever love shall come
will fall strangely secret.
~
Cold wind
a balm from these summer stars

Walking aimlessly, shortly after dawn.
Umbrella crowning my head, somber.
Silence -- only my moving.
It's as if I am the only person
alive.
Moving numbly through the dew-strewn
grass
I attempt to walk more softly --
I don't want to disturb the
robins having breakfast nearby --
or maybe I just don't want to
risk stirring this quiet morning
world
So that it wakens.
It's not that I want to preserve
what happened tonight --
It's that I don't want to deal
with the consequences of it tomorrow.
(May 5th)
~
My teenage sex death games
shape who I am
And unfortunately, who I wish
you could be.
(May 5th)