There's something to be said for
all the stories we write together...

I leave words for you
structured in verse and rhythm...

Somehow I seem to only find myself
living here in the Aprils of my youth...

The world has always been
something birthed of madness...

My dear, darling painter,
You mix colors and...

Orange juice waits on the counter
I should drink it - it's good for me...

There's too much aching and breaking in this world
too many of us are made of porcelain and glass...

There are things that cannot be
put into poems or words of beauty...

It always was mid-spring
or late summer when we would...

Ocean roads wind and twist
and promise you a taste of...

Building a mystery
we wonder how much longer...

Blame me love
but wake up...