Poetry may be reflections of immortal souls.
A record of life's journey to the sacred light...
As the sun begins to bathe me
in treasures of the earth...
I want to ruin you...
Yellow is the jelly that I ate
It wiggled and it trembled...
Neat girl sits with crossed legs,
a napkin across her lap, hiding her...
I choose another artifice
to wrap you up in my inhabited planet...
I write all of these things
that I'll probably never speak a word to you...
I
I'm not going to forget that you forgot...
I remember something about paper
caressing my cheek; life's formula...
I am just a dot in your universe,
not dead enough to be a star...
Walking the world on war torn lands,
The government holds all the power in their grimey...
This ornate road
I used to pass by...