Your demise began early. as it does for the majority of us all . The world and its repeated histories, the Braille of scars, wrong turns and cull-de sacs From your perch,…

“Is fall just the bill collector for \summer’s excess?” In the backyard you burn Fall’s leaves while children chase each other in imaginary wars, the smell of smoke their battlefield, a smoky theater…

  The night moves along awkward, and I sit at the edge of my bed contemplating an even more awkward gravity—the kind that keeps us pinned down or struggling to move, like a…

Let me tell you about the home I will build for you, my love. I will build you a fine home where the front door is made of laughter, and when you knock…