Dawn is quick, but Love is slow, patient flower to be sewn in hostility of snow strong like thousand year-old stone. Night is long, but...

I have devoted myself with unswerving dedication to the ideal of the Altar at the Shrine. O mountaintop Mercy, O pinnacle of Presence, I...

The softest rain upon us. O my love, we are obscene, in schizophrenic atmosphere and paranoid, outstandingly alarmed at everything. How...

Lilda chasing the hounds out the door, through the garden, into the vacant lot of the Universe, obsidian and weighty, over our...

Terrible poems, a scathing mind. I know no quiet when I write. The pond is perturbed continuously by the arrogant breeze of the attempt....

How we are fundamentally insecure, tossing our pride out of the windows when it's nighttime, time to go to bed and dream out absurdities...

O misery of mountains, thou art mine, no matter at what detrimental cost to my mere sanity, a thing long tried, wracked mercilessly by...

The unassailable waters of indifference, who fret not at the coming of their own evaporation, total and complete. How to move what moveth...

By inconclusive dogma of retreat have I abandoned all my poems of thought, left them to sit and gather dust in heaps, crumbling away in...

“But I've really come to realize the kind of obvious thing which is that these are simply the most unburdened spaces in my life, the...