by Steven W. Rouach
Let me sink to the ocean floorI don’t want to hear them anymoreThe low whispers in the nightMy silent…
He Feels attacked by empty roomshe thinks his circuits must be fusedhe’ll nurse his fifty digit brainprotects his dry cells from the rainin…
by Steve Rouach
in the snowwhere snow angels go to create vaguely human shapes
A Personal Sermon
There is a shiny part of my soul that seeks to be in union with the forest, and when I am in the forest, I open my eyes and…