The Gracious Garbage Man and the Golden Door You patrol my neighborhood like the carved figurehead of old. Balanced in reverse on your viridescent vessel. Breaking your pose only long enough to gather the yesterdays refuse and rubbish. Clothed in ...
No one told me it would require solitude to put pen to paper And yet my loneliness provides a voice In the space between wonder and wandering my soul speaks The margin between exultation and despair is the place I ...
