Little Dead Fly, Stuck to my Finger

Little fly, most would neglect,

Only bigger than a breadbox deserves our respect.

We’re a broken, hurt and flawed world,

But I’ve learned to disconnect.  


I’ll Leave it on the Forum

“A foregone conclusion, penned in cobwebs.

There is one solitary space for this decomposing love to inhabit.”

Fresh Starts:

I wanted a big funeral.

I wanted to be remembered by thousands.

I wanted a full plate of many talents.

I have done well to make that so,

Becoming something with the breadth of an ocean

With the depth of a river creek.

It’s not what I bargained two decades for.