The shy poet
carries a mouthful of words...

I wish the sky would sprinkle
her morning dew...

It is not my fault
you see, this heart...

Why not avow my poem
its restitution...

My dreams are irrational
beyond the ability to rationalize...

It feels like I'm undergoing
open heart surgery...

Yesterday, while browsing Lowe's
I stumbled upon the river rock aisle...

When daddy's heart
went soft repose...

As of late, the poems I've read
don't really grasp the potential...

I want to find my heart
an anchor...

I almost loved you,
I was thisclose...

Should one worry
if her dream...