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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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| Today, I saw a ghost of myself, driving the ghost of my father's tractor, pulling the ghost of my father's bailer, pulling the ghost of a wagon, stacked with bales the way I stacked them back in the '70s. He drove with total concentration, as if he feared screwing up, as if failure would end his world, as if love was conditional and could disappear in a moment, the only kind of love he's ever known. Today, I saw a ghost of myself. I wanted to stop and tell him, it's okay to let passion burn, if he loved, he'd never be alone, everything works out in the end, and the world would keep turning. But I continued on my way, because of the possibility of failure, because love can turn into hate, because one can be lonely in a crowd, because in the end, there's always regret, and the world would keep turning. 24 Lines
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