Sitting in silence as the red sky ripensNearby a woodpecker already laborsShhhhThe time is not yet for infant eyes Now the wrens join in song…
It feels funny how the years already slip by now. From what I hear it only gets more strange and slippery as we go.
I always said I would never live far enough north that it required me to get up before the sun in order to scrape ice off my windshield…
Her home was the sea andHis love had never known the wavesEach day an encore performanceOf a long gone tragedy
Inked linespermanentGrounded kneesrepentant
My memoir will be filledwith laughing friends and freight trainseach known for crashing through still nightsand leaving faint memories in their wake
I’ve visited terrible places beforehell holes down to the tiniest detailI’ve been there, but to methose places are foreignHave you been to hell…
Birdsong kills off dawn’s silent approachbut its beauty justifies the crimein fact pleasant enough to be worthsuffering this…
Courage comes in crowdsThis side of the city.Are tiny bits truly enoughTo feed the least of us?
He was a child of the wildwoodAnd came from the Wise-menBeneath those treetops colors spokeAnd low hanging fog breathed heavy