Who is so fancy, esoterica saves the day?Who is the Yogi, Namaste?

I wonder what became of you, your JohnnyRotten skin, no Emerald City eyes.You'd have been a beauty if you let inferiority steam your glasses with its candor, sans laughter.

There’s a pressure at all hours of the day only a poem can assuage.

You think it’s a game?Unintelligible? Ha!Envision no spoons.This is serious.It is a matter of joyversus emptiness.

...we’re not even really hiking, more like meandering in cinematic light.

He may take long walksin the raining darkalmost aimlesslyto a spot of soaked grassin a neighbor’s open field.He’s decided this is the placefor you and him to meet again.

Time’s relativity is considered and abandoned, for the more revelatory experiences of starlightin strands, and pearly floors that span as far as absolute compassion...

...you hold a poemthat functions half as personalnote and half as telescopeto the heightsawaiting us all.

Would it be enough to rock on a stormless sea with each our separate memories tuned to the state of the sinking sun?

Even the bees I'd swear were sent to protect us in the delicate business of hives and honey are stung to silence by the news that something winged has lost its flight.

I write for pages, get lost in the mezzaninehidden from stages.

Money has only a different value in the eyes of each.

Oh my gosh, he smells good, like some exotic but comforting spice, nutmeg or cardamom. Slowly Damian lowers his head to mine and I think my chest might explode, my heart is tap-dancing so qui

Here's one prophecy the writer can make - you'll never be rich and you'll probably be poor.

Yet, history has shown that if material force can defeat some ideologies it can no longer obliterate a civilization without destabilizing the whole planet.

Truth is too weak to combat prejudice.

As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.

One must cease letting oneself be eaten when one tastes best: that is known to those who want to be loved long.

To get a better piece of chicken, you'd have to be a rooster.

The heart of sanctification is the life which feeds on justification.

You cannot affirm the power plant and condemn the smokestack, or affirm the smoke and condemn the cough