Is There A Mechanism Of Death, That

It Is Necessary To Reteach A Thing Its Loveliness, To Put A Hand On Its Brow Of The Flower And Retell It In Words And In Touch It Is Lovely Until It Flowers Again From Within, Of Self-blessing.

There Are Two Versions To Every Poem – The Crying Version And The Straight Version

I Will Find That Special Person Who Is Wrong For Me In Just The Right Way.

Is There A Mechanism Of Death, That So Mutilates Existence No One, Gets Over It Not Even The Dead?

Turn On The Dream You Lived Through The Unwavering Gaze. It Is As You Thought: The Living Burn. In The Floating Days May You Discover Grace.