Here we go mother on the shipless ocean.Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.

first of all nothing will happen and a little laternothing will happen again

Nobody reads poetry anymoreSo who the hell are youI see bent over this book?

What is this life so full of care,We don't have time to stand and stare.

My heart is strong, I will not fail, I won't be wronged, I will prevail.

August is dust here. Droughtstuns the road,but juice gathers in the berries.

Know that there is often hidden in us a dormant poet, always young and alive.

The fear of poetry is an indication that we are cut off from our own reality.

part memory part distance remainingmine in the ways that I learn to miss you

The first year was like icing. Then the cake started to show through …

There's a book of poetryin the lines of my handsthat no one wants to read

Poetry is the whispering of a truth by the shouting of the best possible lies

Xs and OsLove is a gameof tic-tac-toe,constantly waiting,for the next x or o.

I had forgotten. Disgust shadows desire.Another life is never safely envied.

I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world.