with a tilt
it’s okay to spend your days watching clouds pass by imagining objects or faces...
reso(nation)
when she reads (which she does well and often) it’s like a dream or...
just like november
your voice heavy with the fog of waking whispered the sweetest nothings. cool crisp...
at a crossroads
the echoing notes of each string gently being strummed shakes the air between us...
into dust
with seven lines you moved me from night to someplace deeper than despair a...
blood and bone
she haunts my dreams, my waking hours with a presence more palpable than blood...
a ghazal
rumi’s ghazal 441 so skillfully mixed with techno-pop beats weaves a haunting, divine and...
a perfect paradox?
he wrote of a perfect paradox hinged on the sole fact of our shared...