“Give me cigarette burns.

Garments with old songs in their memory,

Sweat through from mosh pits

And blurry nights swinging hips in a hazy club,

I want to raise a collection of stories in textile color.”

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.