I Would If I could be a pillow, a safe place to lay me down your grief, I would. If I could be a basket, I would gather all your sorrow, cast it out into the seven directions, I would. If I could be a fountain, I would flow with you through the seven waters of your soul. I would always be your friend, I would. Madman Chronicles: The Warrior now available at: http://www.publishamerica.com/shopping/shopdisplayproducts.asp?catalogid=3425 To discover the most dangerous w...

Flame Pushing words away lest they eat my sleep become the only part of me devour those golden hours which amount to the rest of me yes, away with dreams and all that seems possessed to make an end to me Anesthesia is an art to which I might at once lay claim a shallow grave divided I might just lay between some token awareness consciousness which came first coffee or cream blackout describes the best held dreams I lit a candle to threaten the stars but nobody’s laughin...

Earth Chapel In the city we imagine the cars are wild horses Buildings become mountains piled high one on top of another until they are small and one under a great expanse of sky where cave creatures dwell climbing into the bellies of the horses making false light against the night a collective prayer to forestall the dawn a curious perspective from our eyes we may leave and leave We are an old tree small and wizened, gnarled our Children flowers at our feet...

Birds I View Whomever hears a choir must needs long for Noel just so... those inclined toward the voices of birds listen for Spring as one might any day sing yet exalt in the clamor of rich pitch soprano and tenor rising on alto bass legs to soar all ways speak an air of wing There were five this morning whose dark coat raven one more bearer await the pall together badger the hawk make a meal of its prey caw caw caw the hunter they strut in magnificent jest whose eye...

Dear Reader, Looking into faces of choir whose voices reach, pass us through more each the crowd tone upon tone upon tone delicious... Love. Ah yes, what else is there in the Spring... youth.. the bloom of youth on love’s face. A poet would name it so and never Summer, that lustiest season of all. The rebirth of all things cries out regeneration, reaching to the Sun, a smoldering fire. A scent of lilacs in the city and country hay alfalfa are the stuff of sweet dre...

A compelling read! Daniel Meyer Texas (12/27/2004) An epic and compelling adventure. An artful blending of motorcycles and the unique souls who ride them, clashing cultures, family love, the loyalty and honor of friends, stunning betrayals, and inconceivable evil all swirling in a land teetering between apocalypses. Join Wulf as he leads his people into the labyrinth, part of which is a futuristic underground habitation that just might be their salvation...or something much, much mor...