Hot wax words dripping
In my mind tonight
I could have been a poet
I could have made those words to sing
In a garden where all the thumbs are green
Not just this stubby candle
Not just these idle seconds
Between being someone else
I could have been a poet
Maybe I still can
Monday, October 28, 2013
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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Final Thoughts From an AGM You want to mess with me? I can take you down a notch Spill the beans I’ll spill your blood Tooth for tooth, splo...
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Standing on a Hillside Sometimes you look back on where you have been Past the cloud-fluffy daffodils bobbing and green Through the deep dar...
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