John I once asked a man what he was wri He looked up at me with the obviou Women. That’s all I ever write about. Th one thing I could never quite unde
Red Evening Sky We sail away as the blood pumping Direct us toward the heart of the The soft currents carry our souls Radiant as a woman’s red lips as s We leave a world behind us in shad
The Poet You Have Created I’m really bad at writing my hands are lazy weak with anticipation of setting the page on fire with my own hands 1
The Child I am The wet slobber of a warm tongue b As I peer off the side of my bed is still another dream away from c the empty smile of my hound dog mo As I step foot upon the ground an