I write it fifteen times a day ( Read more... )

A wave of sadness washes over me ( Read more... )

Standing, watching the crucifiction ( Read more... )

In a light discouraged
By black curtains and growing dark,
Can a seed take root and spring
Forth, and over take find a place
And a certain specific glow
In red words stained with
Ideas, burnt rather than bled,
And a rising sun, held back, kept down.

We stood in a vacuum ( Read more... )

Falling threads of light
Making quick, sudden and
Short lived indentions
On my life.

Thin, narrow columns
Of that elixir that gives
Life. Dropping, descending
On my life.

Cold box, can you understand these ( Read more... )