Time was always counting down. Years, months, days, hours. The indulging pleasures of life. Were winding down the murky path. The sun mocks from afar. The only evidence I even exist. It moves as I move. I can control my body. The shadow moves with me as one. Is proof enough that I exist. Contribute is a word irrelevant. When no one needs your help. To stay with in yourself.

Welcome to the Poetry and Translation conference webpages. These their sweet learned labours all the way. Be as our tuning, that when hence we part,. Adrian Hunter and Dale Townshend.

Poetry explains without having to explain, the depth and great heights of the human condition. Saturday, December 24, 2016. The words do not come easily as they did in my youth. In those days, what could be expected for me to know? What was real was the brushing of your skin on my skin. The smell of your hair and the trembling of your breasts in my hands. The quiver of flesh that quickened the pulse,. The pulse that tore and shredded my sense of self.

Thursday, October 29, 2009. When thinking upon the verse stated above. When thinking upon the verse stated above,. One will see clearly that this is something,. A statement to the effect of which you must position yourself morally,. So let us reflect upon our souls,.

Well daylight never comes too soon. Saturday, November 12, 2011. The fairytale talk in every photo;. Six months on slow water;. Something to say like silk in the middle;. One night when God hears the garden;. Black, can be hardly, turning piano keys and starlights. I dream of everything, of nobody, and anything else I can think of. Love Songs by Sara Teasdale.