![]() |


Bent the StringsWhen I struggle withBent the Strings
The chords, my voice cracks and breaks- A pained melody, Born from lack of practice, but
It's not my fingers that bleed.


In MemoriamMy Fluffy Biscuit You talked to spoons, forks, and knives Warmed my lap and heart.In Memoriam


The Warmth of WinterThe biting air that stings my cheeks Warms my thoughts, For I know that I have just the excuse I need To use my fireplace. To gather logs from the neglected woodpile And build a carefully stacked Funeral pyre to Summer. With the first fire I take stock of the time that passed Since last a blaze inhabited my hearth. The flame leaps From the match to the kindling As my memories leap from the crocus and daffodils To tulips then poppies, To daylilies and then the Rose of Sharon. Now the trees in the neighborhood have stripped bare to streak through the upcomThe Warmth of Winter


VaporIf I disappeared tomorrow, dissolved into morning mist,Vapor
I would whisper over your waters, tracing my name in your soft surfaces, watching my essence float in the dimness before sinking into deep places,
&


Thank You, Slater.Listen:Thank You, Slater.
I used to go to the nearby campus coffee shop in the early evenings, armed with a pen, a blank notebook, and writer's block. The sense of loneliness was unspoken but well accounted for.
I always shared coffee-counterspace with the same boy, who never smiled or talked and who had a penchant for bedhead and argyle sweaters. He liked to lean back on his stool, balancing precariously as he read novels, and I liked to pretend I wasn't watching him watch me. We coexisted in quiet companionship, thrived quietly under fluorescent lighting which sometimes caught his thick-framed glasses.
His novels change
Your support and friendship mean a lot to me.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations [link]
The roots of the future run deep [link]
--
a melting pot of truth and fiction
I'm very pleased you liked it.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations [link]
The roots of the future run deep [link]
--
rosin your bow, sing your scales
do your lunges
we're going
field-
dancing
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations [link]
The roots of the future run deep [link]
Previous Page12345...Next Page