...words are so strong and I am so timid - my soul ignores warnings and I end up covered with your paint ...

...the religion of the heart is as intimate as a wish breathed to the night sky...

...I pluck every day from my sweater or chair, red hairs...strands of significance, traces of you in my life ...

...some say Twitter seems trite and lacks weightiness - but in actuality, it lends itself to poetry - it can be very compressed and intense...

...my heart is a desolate field over which geese vee, the sky turns and the days lie fallow...

...at morning, I'm unruffled - I'll sit with my tea and Muse Cat beside me and listen to the soft chime of the grandfather clock...

...at dawn, the grains of sleep turn to floating black spots, then out of focus the world tilts, and the cat scratches at the door...

... you are lovely - God has painted every feature of your soul ...

...when you're hard and unyielding your words score me with lines - I hate lines - I want curves - curves are happy like a snowman ...