Coming storm, I am! Drifting, distant, dampness of rain from afar soddens your lips.    Closer, the storm carries in gentle arms of swift winds, each drop of tear-showers. 

Still anchor, sunk, in tear rippled sea. 

Midnight Bells & the Rondeau: Love in the Shadow of the Purchase     Louisiana had been returned to France from Spain and my gait had a new liveliness which could only be that of a lover. My fifty-year-old legs carried...

darkness dwells inside anger tremblesa lull in my speech means I am thinkingdevouring the light which shinesshrinking psychedelic thinkingstrobes of misery spinmy thoughts expandwith ideas of hurt to recallmy mind looks at the worldgood with fangs and clawsthe dark...