my roots were frailspreading slowly in the soilI grewyoung men gazed at methey could use my skinto make fire at nightthey mightchop medownanddecorate ..
This is the way the world endsNot with a bang but a whimper. ~ T.S. Eliota portrait of plasticbottle caps and broken shardscaged inside the bones of s..
I am caughtbetween a breath and a woundboth showing meIam alivein different waysI breathe inI bleed outI take gulps of airto fill myself withthe remin..
we heard faint criesand mumbled voices from belowthe hardwood floorbarely half an hour priorwe were sewing patchesto make quiltsfor our Barbiesand stu..
"In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of t..
time doesn't just hit you like the wavesof the view changing as you drive by the shifting scenes going eighty miles per houron the highway, but in the..