It’s December. The weather is cold.
Sometimes is hot. We live in Texas...

This winter
the sky is cold white...

with a dirty boot
and a pocket knife in hand...

I never loved you like I love you today
but I did loved you when I first told you I loved...

So far, I’ve written some poems for you
some about love...

I cannot find THAT
which I've been searching within the hays of time...

slipping
slipping...

When I'm alone I think of you, my love.
You are my memory, my credit card...

The town I grew up
had an oasis of hypocrites...

What if I write a sonnet just for you?
You’ll get the extra credit you so need...

Mother,
Yesterday, I hid the sun underneath my tongue...

I never wanted to be the sun
but surely enough...