Dreams of Home

As I dream of


Sun baked sands

Warm waters of aquamarine

Doobies the size of Cuban cigars



No chaser

I walk through streets that have seen

Subzero temperature

My veins are frozen ,

My hands are never warm ,

My ears sting from the numb

As I dream of


Conch salad

Bahamianese – ringing in my ears

Bamboo Shack

Bad Telephone Connection

We invented Uber by the way –

Our buses might drop you to your door – if going home your way!

As I dream of

Shorts and bare legs

I see the rain droplets

Small and seemingly harmless;

Yet I’m soaked to bone

The air gets hard to breathe

Sharp in my nostrils





To walk between towering figures,

Empty shells of expectation at pm

Confined spaces of ego and martyr alike come am

These are all art pierces

Made by the people of the cold

I don’t understand

it’s not for me to

I walk in Appreciation and Dreamy Euphoric Nostalgia