I hear each breath come Like a whisper

You are the opposite of raindrops.

If there ever was a day When our roots did not tangle together

There are cranes warbling in the fen today. A sedge that sings dissonantly

The house still stands On East Union Street.

Last night were burning Everything in the pantry.

Scarlet penstemons line the sunny side of the hills where we have stopped

My doctor tells me that bipolar disorder is a disease like any other

My high school girlfriend’s parents didn’t trust me much.

I am a marked man I have been branded by the Bad Spirit.