Silence speaks — its say beheld in its own truth laid bare
Its voice is deeply felt but rarely revealed in the tight economy of considered words it quietly whispers —
The reality it bares, soundlessly eroding with a shameless emotional deluge that rivers through the poet's heart
When you feel alone in a crowded room, you overhear the drone a racing heartbeat ...
When you're going down the road feeling bad, chasing the centerline, reckoning some kind a life passing by out the rolled down window ; hearken in nature's tone poems blowin' in the wind It was thence i came to know my sum of simple truth: Organically self-wrought Environmentally molded from the clay of life a survivor of many a passing storm
Season's change, water seeks its own level The silt does not get to say how far down stream the river carries it
and we still wind up in the same old place parsing the watermark stains of time
and a poet — is not a word i'll longer use to describe who i've become