Greg Dennison Biography

The apartment is so quiet now.
In the early darkened hours I listen to the cars swish by.
The future lies scattered like the bottles on my coffee table, and much like my friend passed out on my couch, I too lay passed out on life's couch.
I thought I had a firm hold on life, as I strolled beneath trees, along avenues at sunset.
...

Your shores extend into the dawn, and for a brief moment we are one.
In silence, my thoughts are fleeting like Diana's arrow piercing the evening sky
as stars burst, drifting upon the cracked tiles of seafoam green buildings.
And, from rooftop to green hills the heart calls out like the trill of a distant flute.
...

My glass sits beneath the bar's dim light.
A brim of substance beneath my fingers.
As the light gleams from one edge of the brim to the other, a sea rests between.
As brown as the skin of my girl across town.
...

Inside my heart is a ghetto, it's windows are broken.
It's streets are deserted.
You will run your fingers along brick, as you walk beside the boulevard.
You brave soul.
...