Poetry

A grey fur-ball wells up in my soul. Those 19 years were the brightest, warmest grey. The smallest, wisest grey. Can you tell that my tears are grey? And so is my smile. It’s a magical world, isn’t it? You grew up with me. Sometimes I miss you so much. Read more…

I was born I am born Every day Light casts me Into and out of Fire. I will expire. But not today. My life a painting Pure, white, moving, beautiful. There, a red streak My own blood piercing the brightest place. Sed ecce! Is it not surrounded by brighter places? Read more…