For you, the hapless peruser,
who happens to thumb upon this page,
along a dusty shelf of books.
Was not haphazard at all;
...
My mother,
I have not seen her in years;
...
ACT I
It was not your presence,
rather its absence
...
My mind goes from mood to mood,
With no chronology nor sequence of events;
The effect of one thing falling into
...
Upon a roof,
A potential leaper,
Held by the hand of his savior
In a fingerlock hold on humanity.
...
A Whittle of Words...
Sitting, slumped in a chair,
On a wooden porch
And under the sun
...
With hand unsteady,
I stop
at the first line’s edge of a jagged poem,
looking down
...
One has lived long enough
when the world ends,
the universe collapses
and time, itself, reverses...
...