RIP
the greeting for a brand new shadow
Category: poetry
Death at Conception
a patterned well-worn rut
Retrospection
Some days my friend the past…
to contrails
dreaming magic jets autographing air
If It’s Any Constellation
the love we make, the light will know it’s ours
May Day
we need magic not propaganda fools
The Narrows
when buffalo played in the surf
Grieving Feels Like This
Death slouches mean under clouds
God is Red*
How is it nature calls our heart?
Quid Pro Love
Drink of this my salty cup of essence frail