How Wonderful It Was To Love Something

Birthdays Are Ghost Bounty Hunters That Track You Down To Ask, "que Pasa, Baby?

Everybody Has A Gun In Their Car In Detroit.

Poetry At Its Best Is The Language Your Soul Would Speak If You Could Teach Your Soul To Speak.

I'm Actually Forced To Write About Michigan Because As A Native Of That State It's The Place I Know Best.

Wherever We Go We Do Harm, Forgiving Ourselves As Wheels Do Cement For Wearing Each Other Out. We Set This House On Fire, Forgetting That We Live Within. (from "to A Meadowlark," For M.l. Smoker)