In the sticky heat of a midnight confession booth where the whiskey's hour clings to my roots and the preacher don’t ask no questions, just slides me a cigarette through the grate,and ask me. "No regrets?" There's a bullet hole...

The stool sighs under my deadweight cheer, A drunken moon stuck to the veneer. The neon hums like a pissed-off fly... Ah, well. Pass us a tin, will ya, Bill?Bill slides a tin—condensation sweats— the kind that forgives a...

The steam uncoils like a whispered lie, a ghost in the curl of a tea-leaf,—black as a raven’s sigh, but something lingers, steeped too hot.Not leaves, but darkness, swirling slow, a stain that clings to porcelain bone, it pours...

As the ghost of a kiss left lingering still damp,on the collar of morning with such quiet hands,a softer shade of surrender to return,on the perimeter of awaking, unfinished.Torn from slumber, encumbered by dawn,yearning still for starlight and feeling...

At first, only a whisper— then the wind flew, tugging the horizon loose, somewhere else.Etched in the sky's blue ink,showering me with leaves,listening to the way,the wind flies.Just before dawn— it steals my breath,tells me to follow,so I do.Now...