A Case for Keeping Crimson

Our Lives are painted pictures Of this, we can be sure But such a waste of Crimson When spilt upon the floor. I can hear you’re cloaked in sadness For I have lived there too And it seems your heart is broken (As hearts are wont to do) So please consider this now , If […]

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The Reading

From Verse of Small Sanctuary. I wrote this while I lived in a small town in Pennsylvania; it boasted a small but beautiful main street with great restaurants, a theater, et cetera– also was a psychic’s shop, which (though the lights were on) were perpetually closed. In a time of deep depression and, indeed, desperation […]

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Past Where the Briars Grow

I heard the faintest whisper Past where the briars grow Woven ’round the thickets, Where it is not wise to go And I counted ‘pon my fingers (Callused from battles long away) The notes I heard from over The forest’s sharp-toothed gate I can’t recall the words (If any had e’er passed) But so well […]

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