EPITAPH Now I'm not the brightest knife in the drawer, but I know a couple things about this life: poverty silence, impermanence discipline and myste….

I believe one day the distance between myself and God will / disappear..

I basked in you; I loved you, helplessly, with a boundless tongue-tied love. And death doesn't prevent me from loving you. Besides, in my opinion you….

The humiliation I go through/when I think of my past/can only be described as grace./We are created by being destroyed..

This is no occupation for an adult who can look other adults in the eye, carry his own weight, and count himself one of them..

Poem in other words may or may not result from inspiration but must (in reader and author alike) produce it--.

Should each individual snowflake be held accountable for the avalanche?.

The long silences need to be loved, perhaps more than the words which arrive to describe them in time..

And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and….

There is only one heart in my body, have mercy on me..

literature will lose, sunlight will win, don't worry..

I wish my father could be around..

We are created by being destroyed..

I wish you all the aloneness you hunger for..

Its hard for me to grasp that I might somehow be my fathers equal in any way..