Latest Poems
The Idea of Flowers
Each bee that’s crystalline with spring’s golden frost (each filament gleaming with the idea of flowers) carries with it the possibility of true abundance—the hope of things not yet seen by the manifold eyes of the wild world.
Overflow
I was built deep and hungry, with a heart that wanted to be filled with so much beauty and emotion and love. I thought that was my gift, my blessing—being able to contain it all.
Homesick
Tornado winds raged when I was here last. Your fingers ran through my hair and calmed the strands the storm had tangled. I wondered how long before I felt that safety again.
Masks
Each mask hides another, veil on tearstained veil. Each tattered page of my heart, inked and stamped and sealed in the shadows of my mind.
Stopped. Started.
Broken towers, ripped apart. Life is full of pain; nothing is right. All has been demolished. How did it get this way? Tattered and torn, broken to bits. Was life always pain and suffering?
Article Categories
