Ana, Your grave lies small beside the grass, which short–I hear the sound of mowers still rises higher than the marbled flat within the ground. This place we laid you: never once to see the sun, or the brown and dying blades of life. But now the grass is green again and now the sun […]Read more "To Ana"
Love is just a song we think we wrote. Expecting much, but never prizing more, we seek to seize the vial, tip, and pour the joy we want, but never yet could quote Till one day, looking out beyond our moat at cherry blossoms on the other shore we see the longed-for things, despised before […]Read more "Bridge of Love"