Those orange streetlights
that are illuminating the cars that are parked...
If I could find all of the smiles from all our...
then I would put them into piles, soak them in...
Sometimes I cry alone
because I am so far away...
the wind stirs again,
coveting lands that have...
exhausted with the expectations
leave me barefoot in heavy snow...
Your soul is a harvest gold
phone booth...
I am far too cautious,
rarely allowing myself to be...
I always have a notebook and pen
tucked into my back pocket...
I may not be
In the right state of mind...
Zeena was not an ordinary cat
imagine that...
How heavy and how
impatient is the river...
My weekends are somewhat overly aquired of late.
My time is in demand but without demand also...