When the first flowers were born
from drops of sun-kissed ice...

She walks where the ocean brakes,
along a faulty shoreline...

Just walking
not feeling...

Two spiders meet.
Web and bush in a twist...

Trapped in a cell,
meaning to simulate natural habitation, in pity...

Oh! What a beautiful boy I know.
His mind so unafraid to be where others' refuse to...

I wrote this poem in remembrance of a real...
Kenny’s Cry...

I've been waiting here.
Untouched unless cobwebs were brushed from my head...

I want to see trees,
that spring from the ground...

Such a little baby, crying.
Tossing from the stress of knowing...

Left behind by the sunset,
she calmly waits by moonlight...

When she laughed, the hissing lights caught her...
and stayed in her eyes as she began to speak...