My friend asksme where I getthe fodder forwriting my poems.I tell him, life.He says that's toosimple.He isn't satisfied.I tell him thatsometimes, I sit atmy desk and openthe window above thelitterbox, and lookoutside at theorange daylilies andwait.He says he writesfrom...

Why does a world without you bring up feelings and thoughts i long to? Escape from your grip in the slightest sense of it gives hope for happiness so i’ll make sure of it. You can beat me senseless...

She reads mewithout a word.A glance,a silence,the small shifts I make.I am known to hereven when I am still,an oft read,dog eared pagein a book.She reads mewithout a word.