The Crossing


Time worn

Lined by relentless sun

Tanned leather scraped smooth

By gnarled hands dead and gone

Smiles painted on by circumstance

Await the powdered throng

Crossing the bridge from plenty

In search of cheap fare for distant cousins

Nuevo Progreso

Just across the river of tears

International bridge

Spanning fact and fiction

Neither side aware of which is which


Contorted by mistrust

In search of a key to tomorrow




About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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