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 Legend of a Feather’s Loop Follow the gold path to walk the day from mist to glint — Feather at dawn, Crow at the fence, Fox i... [read more] |
 She starred as a waitress who was always jolly. She was very talented and her name was Polly. I wonder if she realized that 'Alice' would be... [read more] |
 Spite dressed as love is a dagger, not care, Even from family, you’re not bound to their snare. They feed on your pain, on the hurt they cre... [read more] |
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The Door Between Us I packed my silence into boxes labeled enough and no more, carried them down the hallway where your shouting stil... [read more] |
 I’m grateful that I know… something that in every part of the world is true… If we teach our children to be kind to animals th... [read more] |
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May we be reminded by ducks… about our capability… something we humans desperately need call it a lesson in humility… When we... [read more] |
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We saw a family of ducks the other day…enjoying the morning sun. A mother duck and her 7 babies…in a little pond… splashing in the wa... [read more] |
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Feather drifts in the paddock mist, catches on a fence where the crow keeps watch, slips past thistle and shadow‑fox, rests by the la... [read more] |
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Life‑Arc Diptych I. Townhouse Days — Looking Back In the upper case, a volume the colour of late‑harvest light,... [read more] |
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Looking Back In the upper case, a volume the colour of late‑harvest light, its spine breathing salt and iron. I... [read more] |
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Platform Light Between the last stair and the first step down, I carry both airs — brick‑warm and hay‑sweet — in... [read more] |
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Homestead Nights (Sequel to Townhouse Days) The road out of the city was a long exhale — brick giving way to hedgerow,... [read more] |
 This happened at the airport What happened wasn't planned A line of people at the Delta counter Each with a demand ... [read more] |
 CHAPTER 1 So I took this bus trip to San Francisco, your typical troubled teenager thirsting for something he can’... [read more] |
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At the Corner Steam lifts from a grate, curling into the fog like a hand that almost touches mine. The pavement... [read more] |