It's a night in Februaryand words become arbitary.Instead a kissour lips meet momentary.Suddenly the air, the brickwallis less ordinary.Unwarryof thin..
I began a writing journal last month to aid against my growing writer's block. In it, I address a fictitious class because I heard somewhere that teac..
For whatever reason, it took me a year just to write this one poem. It seems that some moments, no matter how profound, can leave a writer without wor..