Isn't it funny when you're younger, and people tell you that the moon has a way of reminding you of the past? Sitting here on this window sill I can't help thinking about Devin. How, in one night, I...

Resting restlessly within the dark of its sheath,my poetic knife feels expressionless.When so, it wants to be drawnand plundered into the white of the page.Then it wants to cut through the emptinessand carve out beautiful metaphors.The blade will glint...

Just speak to meand you’ll gaze into thewilderness behind my eyes.This wilderness,lush in dreams,barren realities!As I open the gate for you,I sit and listen white-knuckledto the voices within my mind.The further you trek in my mind,the closer to summery...