The heart of me lies not in the words


But in the spaces between the words,



Before the words,


After the words.




I believe,


That our,


(Yours and mine),


Most heartfelt cries,


Deepest sorrows,


Swelling joys,


World-shaking rages,



Are expressed,




In the moments of quiet.




The deepest communications


Never mark upon the paper,


Never vibrate the air.



The deepest bonds

Are with those who,


With a look,

Or a touch,

Or a smile,


Manage to listen well enough

To hear the words

Written in the







The Painted Moment

The sky is a looming grey,

The color of old asphalt to the far horizon,

Edged and interwoven with bands of white and gold.


Just overhead

The black silhouette of a bird

Hangs stationary,

Wings beating in slow, measured strokes,

Hovering unwillingly

In the face of chill autumn winds.


The world seems paused.


A live still-life.


A portrait of a moment between the in and exhale.