somehow the skyhooks ( Read more... )

the dash of your comments
hit against my rocks
and in it
i lost
lost myself
self control
became
a monk
one of those "long befores"
sitting in the room
we used to play in
imagination,
our favorite game then.
we used to hold hands
in the center of our souls.
when was it that our grasp
let go?
when was it?we should have ( Read more... )

The day ( Read more... )

There’s a wandering ( Read more... )

Stripped ( Read more... )

crippled in the middle ( Read more... )

Mercy was gone… I was barely past my third year of life… and still learning what it was to have a title. The name "Mercy" had once been "mother", but now that she was gone, I heard her referred to as Mercy as I went through my days. Dad called her Mercy only now. My grandparents called her Mercy with the same tone as they used with me when upset ( Read more... )

...i am a mere ( Read more... )

My grandmother had a smell that was like rustic roses... and I'll always attribute the smoothness of mahogany to her... It seems she would drench whatever room she owned with it. Not in a ostentatious manner... like some of the museums I have seen...

rather, she surrounded herself in it because...

"I like the way it feels... the way it looks... ( Read more... )

touch of wine ( Read more... )