The world is alone without you;
no wine-sparkled eyes dance toward me...

Sure words crisp photo
are lost in still translation...

My bike leaves two trails -
Green snaking behind me in the dew...

Am I truly honest with myself only in earth's...
What does sleeplessness allow me to learn, free...

Old man still a child
rubs mist from a tram window...

On the cold mountain of my imagination your past...
we started marriage on the ashes of your last...

Clouds below roiled in waves like the truth -
convoluted, twisted, tricky faery gifts...

Will always seem to
miss the mountains except when...

The boughs droop low;
even the tree is overcome with sadness...

Mrs. Lowe has two pianos;
with one she's taught five generations...

It bothers me when a curious child
can’t get a book without risking danger...

What the devil makes you think
that I would ever let you...