Sometimes we don't have the answers and we find...
like a gentle breeze warmed by the sun,
you pour over me in a steady stream, constantly...
consider the litany of beauty—
tonight, there is you, nestled in the fists of...
Happenstance—the way you turn the corner at full...
bumping into me, spilling an armful of books that...
and what else perches upon this body, but the hot...
regret, as if sorrow opened its mouth, turning on...
The words
stand for something...
The angels found me yesterday
And the wind carried their voices...
Melancholy blossoms
betwixt seasons, wilting...
Idiot: " Come on, look into my glasses
and see how clear the world would turn...
Cry we all toward places unnamed
Rise above the crested hills...
As I write my rhymes on paper,
They start to become stranger...
Why does everything come with its matching wing?
understanding is another version of satisfaction...