In mid-July the heat reverberates makes the thought of comfort dull my footprints trail the thick blades of St. Augustine grass the smell of Confederate…
In mid-July the heat reverberates makes the thought of comfort dull my footprints trail the thick blades of St. Augustine grass the smell of Confederate…
My dreams stretch along a certain expanse of highway where space hangs in loops of golden unison where the ghost towns mix with sunflower fields…
The line between gray winter and bright-eyed spring dims today adrift in the chill of feathery fair-weather clouds and the short, shrill songs of rain-soaked…
I live to seek the quiet corners beyond the impact and milling of the masses the yell and chaotic thunder vanishes on the cusp in…
I gave you butterflies and a freedom compass a sure route to the North Star a desert of sugared sands to sweeten the fallout from…
A curt, little wind cuts abruptly stabs full through heavy handed despair sitting here waiting for the sun to throw off harsh shadow bleakness sift…