They tried to explain,
As they tried to keep us tame...

A poem is a busy bee
Buzzing in your head...

A poem is a little path
That leads you through the trees...

It is a night of dark desire, a song of sorrow,
wolves vent their cry. The dark one...

Tell me if you think you know
How to make a turtle go...

A summer storm
Stirs my slumber...

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion...

Nature, it's true,
Is full of surprises...

I like to watch the falling snow.
It puts on such a lovely show...

My roots are deep within you,
Growing as you grow...

If the sky above seems cloudy,
And your are left out in the rain...

In the waning heat
at the end...