Back
Poetry
All the horrors that one pulling breath may know in this life. Such cataclysm. Such destruction. Such callous disregard. A...
History’s heroines and heroes all took their turn at suffering. The bitter, dangerous magic. Too little, death obscura. Too much…...
A poem about questions, answers, and oysters.
Time moves faster than thought, though made of the same stuff. But thought, like eyes, blinks while time moves like...
We have arrived in the mid-autumn time, We remember our dead, With both their lives re-lit in lights sublime And...
By default, we do fear fear itself. And the fear, is not nothing. It is the walls of home Becoming...
The woman down the road Had a grandson my age, And another in my brother’s grade. The three boys of...
It was not death which scared me most when my work was in the nursing home. Death is a final...