It’s not the fall that kills you, Not the way the earth does not even flinch. There is no bargaining, No hand to catch your flightless...

Do you like the way The purple falls from chandelier under the ceiling’s cream Or how the monsters ‘neath the bed Are the faces in your...

I’ve had this blanket For fifteen years now. you can hardly call it one; Strands and torn remains of Something so soft,  Something that...

The man and the girl sit at the countertop borne with joy so fabricated, so fleeting That it flies away almost as fast as the butterflies...

What do you hold, little pot Leaves lush and green? Your soil dark as prayers, reaching for the sun, Helios’s breath blesses your Olived...