Rustling through semi turbid autumn air,leaves crunching as if turned to gravel,breezes are stark reminders of…
Man’s recognition of his own fate,morality comes at the last grasp, too weak to catch a…
Last nightMy daughters came to meIn a dreamTwo little girlsWith hair made of golden light…
Not so much a God as a procuratorThat can hear the breaking of carbon double bondsThe crackle of…
Long ago, I heard wailing over the tears of others,missed opportunities to say ‘I love you’…
Mr. Laing was a distant, working neighborLong ago, the snow was so deepHis Metropolitan muffled like…