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Thursday, December 20, 2007


I am no word smith, and your name is no jewel-
Still, I find that your single syllable
Hits my mark
And resounds, ringing,
Shining on the tip of my tongue.
It is nothing like bubblegum
Or a peppermint
to make my breath fresh,
But I feel clean when we speak.
There is no stressed character
Or unique quality in the vibration,
Except that it is yours,
And nothing stirs my recognition
So much as the thoughts and memories tied to it.
So I will treasure your name,
In my way,
And breathe it aloud before I sleep-
What rose could sound as sweet?

Sunday, December 16, 2007


Their enlightenment delights me
And I am not ashamed
To give a name
To the one thing I long to be-
Sometimes preacher;
Molder of minds
And futures.

A rather romantic view on the whole matter, but the world needs more teachers who actually want to be teachers.

Sunday, December 9, 2007


his voice cracked
across the empty static
like a whip,
hitting me deepest at my core,
creating tremors of response-
my shoulders shook with laughter
and I loathed
to let him go.

For a certain person I know, whose name starts with an M and ends with an Ark and will probably never read this. Which is a good thing, in the current scheme.