Father believed I could not love a tree Because you had no hands for me to hold,

I turn yellow— I flicker green— Like water blistering to light, Like fire at midnight,

to Hell when I die, all my many fails and transgressions and trespasses but sin

Where unchosen silences abound people whisper silently inside. Silence whispers, inside people

...the simplicity of minimalism reduces nature to its basics to reveal the underlying beauty of structure and form.

Look below, where water creates a new color scheme, No perfect reflection, but fractured cattails

This pen is drained. The barrel’s dry.

An inveterate die-hard listmaker The Buddha

She lived before the lighthouse rose. She loved before the library

Blind, as a tick hovers for its next meal, I hunger after you, leap to your smell,

we witnessed fallen men, drifting from wet alleys with their bundles— in Cohen’s rasping hallelujah

Jinni makes a point of showing her nieces and nephews equal attention. She plays no favorites. That way,

It was the kind of day that death should not visit, should be respectful enough, of life, to stay tucked

the travelers disembarking carry their possessions and a look upon their faces

Two kids tested fate and broke it in the process. Well, one kid in legitimacy, another one in essence. And the two of them had found that they could form a perfect balance...

Facebook has solved that pesky problem of mortality. Most of my dead friends seem to keep having birthdays.

According to my Baptist neighbors, I am docketed for torture from my demise until the heat death of the universe.

Say it isn’t so, Momma, rock me slowly, ease the pain. Wipe the teardrops from my eyes,

We whispered about the artist when she moved into the storefront across the street, the huge paintings in the windows hiding her studio

Forests of green flank slate mountains obscured...