Songs for a fragile humanity

Mother made Minestrone. She plucked the finest greens from the herb garden, she then poured them into boiling water, like autumn leaves pulled down by gravity. Mother chopped vegetables.

When the first light cometh, after a dark night spent catching a fleeting star, my head was heavy and dim. The effort bore no fruit. And so no pyrolite inflamed the velvet sky,

I am back sitting on the old chair, in the porch in the backyard, pondering about life and things to come, of the ways of the world so wicked and wrong, of the good laughter and warm hugs

My advice is simply to watch. To give room to cry to shout to scream and to tear things apart or

You should know these things: first, that love is not enough, two, that the moon is simply a rock. Because you go through life as an unwilling ghost, unseen in the subway,

There are awful days. That is a fact of life. But there are also trees. With green bright foliage. Have you wondered what is the memory of trees? Their millenial wisdom,

I gaze upon the world from my window the azure skies and fluffy cumulus from my window the cherry orchard with drops of crimson from my window the...