A Brief For The Defense

I’ve been thinking all day about whether I should write something or not about last night. Although, deep down, I knew I had to write someth...

The shape of my life is round like the two pronged tree growing in front of the old Leiper house (And when I say old, I do mean old. Thomas ...

I want to make love to you in a library, Listening to the quiet of recorded history Watching the arch of your feet As they wrap around the s...

Above me, the trees are towering, tangled stems and branches, still silhouettes guarding the infinite sky, hiding it beyond their last livin...

I do not know what it is that closes me: there is the last, feeble moment of dark before the flickering ruins of light jostle the stars into...

I loathe the granite firm cold of my empty bed in winter. It asks of me to meet with your recoiling, like a tulip from the night, and wonder...