We are all just going somewhere with no destination really
--Chiseling away the body To reveal a radiant soul
My signature forged on a photograph of wild sunflowers in the snow
Buying fresh garden tomato’s with old currency
I have a bad habit of falling in love, when I look into your eyes
Courage is at play (Weightlessly and spinning)
The vanity looks into so many mirrors and goes instantly blind
We are making patchwork blankets that cannot take the pain away
The great diviner in a garment of golden Threads
Please remember! the birds are singing renewal and we get to witness the blessings of another spring.
The Scottish fold kitten interrupts the heroin addict
The Orchestra pit of the soul (For Leonard Cohen)
I write now under the pseudonym (pen name) Little Rayburn.