The spoken word is ephemeral. The written word, eternal. A symphony, timeless.
Flythe kitesof your soul,letyour spiritsoar.
The first time I saw her,Everything in my head went quiet.
The evidence of death is before my eyes constantly. Moving from me outward. My death always a step in advance. The world is a mirror of myself dying. The world not dying anymore than I die. I more ali...
who did I think we were.who did I thinkI could make you.this is the oldest mistake,to confuse wantingwith magic. silence is the undoingof every spell, and we are expertsin the unsaid. even now, I forg...
I wrote too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak.
Things spoken in love always become reality.
I do not care what I labeled, as long as I am heard.
...We claim the present as the pre-sent, as the hereafter. We are unraveling our navels so that we may ingest the sun. We are not afraid of the darkness, we trust that the moon shall guide us.We are d...
I wrote too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speakBut I know now it doesn't matter how well I say grace if I am sitting at a table where I am offering no bread to eatSo this is my wh...