…freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin – inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night…

December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…

…everything I treasure is broken – it’s of no use to anybody but me…

…when someone is honest and vulnerable, they wring my heart – I want to hug them for being real…

…cities are murky places – hatching grounds for monsters…

…once I saw you in moonlight and I can tell you – the silvery dust of the stars doesn’t shimmer like you…

…what is the meaning of La Belle Dame Sans Merci? – have you never been enthralled? enchantment that is unrequited desolates the soul…

…you called me poet-priest – I am. …devoted to my art, faithful to you…or, is the other way around?…

…you are not what you seem – you’re a Sylph – you leave and the air retains your image – you haunt me…

…when I met you, you were so beautiful, the air around you vibrated with color …

I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us

… your heart is your soul twinkling in the black firmament inside you…

…being with you was so easy and natural – there was no strain – I never had to guard my words…

…When people lose their way and lack a real purpose for living they often fall back on certain forms of escapism as a form of self-soothing…

…evil fascinates and repels us – it’s a terrible beauty that enthralls us the more we stare into it…

…strands of your hair and tendrils of the wind spin into nothingness the memories of that day…

…when you’re a writer, you become deeper and more uniquely distinct, the more you go inside yourself…

…true authority is not based on control – it’s based on truth…

…the magic of love runs at cross purposes with the rhythm of living…

…I worship at the temple of your body and without you, I’d have no art…

…my heart is a desolate field over which geese vee, the sky turns and the days lie fallow…

…little children adore me – I’m a Troll Tamer and they know it!…

… only a seer or a lover would know that I’m making a jewelry of words for you -drawn from your essence -to flash and burn with your fire -so you can bedazzle with your...

…the best way to forgive someone is to enter into their sufferings …

…ambition or contentment? This simple question led me back to a more balanced view of life and put me in touch with the Me I used to know…

……and not out of fear or loneliness, but only to find myself again… for we have come too far my Life, to turn back now…

all day long, one storm then another—and I take your hands like gentle flowers that blossom into awareness

…our monsters walk the dark pathways of secret motives…

…Use your finger to trace the scar upon my chest- I lied – it wasn’t a knife wound, but a scrape from a nail sliding under a fence to see you…

…it’s good to know wave and particle alpha code, but more than that, the writer must go to the heart of life …

…no good writing flows from a polluted well – you can write about monsters, but you can’t be one…

…it’s not the stories – it’s the pain and the joy and the people who stay with you long after the stories are told …

…I deliberately spilled the black ink of despair because my perfect soul was a stained glass illusion – can you understand that?…

…poetry is paying attention to life when all the world seems asleep to its beauties and truths…

…love is suffering – that’s the happy ending…

…don’t settle for pap – our thoughts wander through eternity – experience the wonder of being alive…

… only darkened trails of rain could paint your face upon a pane…

…loving a fairy lady with a magic song will leave you desolate on a cold hillside … but from there you can see the stars…

…I’m the last person to ask about unrequited love – I’ve run away to the Moon and fled to its valleys…

…if you want your own distinctive voice, you first have to become someone…

…that icy glass reduces your beauty – dims your fire – let me be your mirror…

…I’ve known damnable beauty – the turgid pull of swirling blackness – but in the end, it’s futile – purity alone redeems…

Your skin is transparent as distilled moonlight

…you listen first with the ears – then, you wait and listen for what your heart feels – then you consider what they’ve said – then, you reply …

…all this time I’ve been worshiping you – when other men wanted to kiss you, I’ve been offering the praise of my lips…

…the wind has a purpose – to rattle the window panes, disturb the cat and make me miss you …

…nobody ever takes from the desert anything but aridity and monsters…

…when I was a kid, Toronto streets were deserted and quiet on Sundays, except for the sound of church bells I stood on the sidewalk one December listening to the Christmas bells – I’ve never...

…authority is the unmistakeable tone in the voice of a true writer…

…if you’re an artist, you’ve submitted to authority…