Sitting at Powell’s

I sit in this bookstore where I feel detached from the young and too young to be the old. Miles away, memories come in with the fog and rest their toes at the edge of the water. The only promise of life is the sound of fury from beyond what only the lost can see.Continue reading “Sitting at Powell’s”

Denied and Deprived

And before I die I assure you I’ll cry over that first kiss, denied and deprived over many oceans and beyond anyone’s notion of what could have been, preventing what should have been. I suppose it all comes to its destined end, despite our legacies, our family, our friends. For the heart wants what itContinue reading “Denied and Deprived”