Between dusk and dawn
much is going on.
What we can not see
does not cease to be.

Between birth and death,
life can be well

Before I was born there was nothing.
And when I am gone the same.
But I am now where all things happen
And are written and

Sordid Spectrum

Decomposed prose shows the path words seldom travel by

the laugh made more significant by the cry the why

Lost somewhere between myself and my enlightenment

Today I sat down too heavily hard upon my rickety rustic old wooden

Between Breaths

My mind is a vapor, floating
Above asphalt and neon,
Its burden born freely,
Its pain hung from every corner.
Knowing,