One Tends To Write Beyond

Snow Falling Softly On Lashes Of Eyes You Love, And A Cold Cheek Growing Warm Next To Your Own In Hushed Dark Familial December.

The Aim Of The Poet, Or Other Artist, Is First To Make Something; And It's Impossible To Make Something Out Of Words And Not Communicate

One Tends To Write Beyond What's Needed

What Are The Questions You Wish To Ask?

I Wish I Could Press Snowflakes In A Book Like Flowers.