After The Sunset On The Prairie, There

Under The Summer Roses When The Flagrant Crimson Lurks In The Dusk Of The Wild Red Leaves, Love, With Little Hands, Comes And Touches You With A Thousand Memories, And Asks You Beautiful, Unanswerable Questions.

What If They Gave A War And Nobody Came?

Poetry: A Sliver Of The Moon Lost In The Belly Of A Golden Frog.

Poetry Is A Type-font Design For An Alphabet Of Fun, Hate, Love, Death.

Poetry Is The Silence And Speech Between A Wet Struggling Root Of A Flower And A Sunlit Blossom Of That Flower.