A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.
sometimes i am not sure.if i am writing the poemor the poemis writing me.
i would rather havefeelings without wordsthan words without feelings.
you are here.the moontides are here.and that’s all that matters.
the sapphire depthof my own love…startlesand warmsand wounds my soul.
When it comes to lovedo not eversettle for anythingless than magical.
Tell me..how do you stand there?filling the doorway….of my life.
Wordsare powerfulforces of nature.they are destruction.they are nourishment. they are flesh. they are water.they are flowers and bone.they burn. they cleansethey erase. they etch. they can eitherleave youfeelinghomelessor brimmingwith home.
love wounds me with soft pillows with tender lips and fingers
what ismore beautifultears, in someone’s eyesfor meor in my eyesfor them.
most of the timesit’s the hardest to saywhat I love moreyouor your memory.
Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.
may this poetrybe the homeyou will someday come back to.
when whisperedwhat an exquisitesong, it makes-your name.
Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe.
i want to stay curled and cosiedand chocolated….foreverin my mother’s arms.
when i speak to youi speak as thoughi am offering a rosein your hand.
all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.
a silent night. – the most eloquent poem i have ever read.