This time around I was so lonely that I was forced to be face to face with myself. Realizing at the end of the day I only have me and I didn’t seem to like...

A tattoo is a true poetic creation, and is always more than meets the eye. As a tattoo is grounded on living skin, so its essence emotes a poignancy unique to the mortal human condition.

Love can be so hauntingly beautiful, waking up past selves that have been wandering aimlessly through the corridors of our soul, for far too long. When someone else can take us from the ghost-town of...

My secrets must be poetic to be believable.

An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life.

He is in love with the land that is always over the next hill and the next, with the bird that is never, Caught, with the room beyond the looking glass. He likes the half-hid,...

When it has finished saying it, it no longer is. The longer it is in saying it, the more it can say it at length, the more slowly it melts, the better quality it is.

His green eyes blazed with desire; such a different look than I’d known before. Chase had studied me, reading my feelings. Tucker was only trying to see his own reflection. Disturbing on several levels.

Descobri a minha estrela. Ela é bela e graciosa. Elegante e divina. O meu riso no inverno. Ela é corajosa e forte. Arrojada e tentadora. Diferente de qualquer outra no universo e não posso tocar-lhe....

His stories were not always new, but there was in the telling of them a special kind of magic. His voice could roll like thunder or hush down into a zepherlike whisper. He could imitate...

Beauty is startling. She wears a gold shawl in the summer and sells seven kinds of honey at the flea market. She is young and old at once, my daughter and my grandmother. In school...

If you were destined to be a poet, then you won’t brainstorm for lines that rhymes. If you were destined to be a celebrity, then you shouldn’t start searching for fans. If you are truly...

… in these new days and in these new pages a philosophical tradition of the spontaneity of speculation kind has been rekindled on the sacred isle of Éire, regardless of its creative custodian never having...

Love can be such a mysterious muse and seductress… spinning her magical web of stardust and emotional euphoria. True love sang her siren song and we wrapped that song around us like the sweetest melody.

That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day...

Every moment I shape my destiny with a chisel, I am a carpenter of my own soul.