Troy writes poetry.

All of the words, illustrations, photographs, and other works of art posted on this site are his, in as much as anything in this world is owned by anyone, which is to say they are not. Ownership is an myth. Attachment is a sickness. Ideas and works are illusions on temporary loan from the Universe.

In other words, feel free to use all of this.

It’s Been Hwil

A Space of Time. A beat.
And in that a BOOM! Creation. Cacophony. Life. Awareness. Me. You! US!

So little time left now. Who know how long?

Then gone. Dead. Decaying. If I’m lucky, tree food. If not, another round somewhere else. Samsara.

But right now. Right now! We’re here. Together. Each moment, new. Forever in finite.

And that’s the greatest thing.

Worthy of a poem for sure. Probably more…

Then I Met You

I fell in love once,
Many years ago,
And I never thought I should again.
I never thought I could again.
I never thought I would again.

Then I meet you.

Cotton of the Night

The cotton of the night
still holds the sweet perfume
of your tendril frame;
walking me gently,
back into a dream.

The Vow

as I sat and sipped latte,
there peddled a man past my cafe.
His shoes were only duct-tape-gray
but not a frown did he display.
I thought quietly into my tea.

I promise and I pray,
before my body finds the clay
and maggots dine on their buffet;
to give everything I own away.
Connect the Z back to the A.

and without delay,
one possession will I purvey
back to the world, ’til it’s OK.
With nothing, life is child’s play.
The vow.