thanks to Emmajoy, whose poetry reminds me to get my butt in gear, and write
something that paints pictures in words. I think I had forgotten how to ..
a borrowed momentthe cardinal's tuneinterrupts the silencein my hearthis voicesounds a lot like youwe stare at each otherhe on his branchme in my mind..
and then there were nonea little kidin a tall cityweeps among the smokeand debrisa father gonein a crumbling exhibitpassersby pass bywith a tear in th..