Just before sleep I had a dream
I was real friends with my wife
And kicking red rubber kicking balls
Up to angels to play with.
My circle of saint friends were all there
And we were laughing at life together.
That was a good pre-sleep dream.
Plus, all my friends on earth who have died
Were also wanting to play kick ball with us.
I hope this was a true dream. It felt like it.

When caged feeling
I make art. So it never ends
My art is everywhere, under every bridge
And in every bathroom, I can place it.
My wife complains, but this is simple survival for me.
When death, war and sickness comes, I make art
To offer hope, say thanks for existence, I make art
As my prayer of praise for the gift of being here.
And it won’t stop even when I’m dead, I will be making art
As I cross over. It may be good or bad art, but I will be making it.
For, how can I keep from singing.