Dear friend of my heart, do you still love poetry as you once did? the musty smell of old books … More
Live wood. Dead wood. Undead wood.
dark tan… jumping a branch that shouldn’t’ve been down here… tapping fingers, fingers tap dancing upon smooth ceder wood surfaces, … More
Your Eyes Were Wild
It has been some time now… last time I saw you naked in the forest, you were ready to fall, … More
The Forest in a Book
Pebbles in a brook A brook in a forest A forest in a book The book begins to breathe Waking … More
Does the reader happen to know what it means to be in the midst of a space constructed by sounds? … More