With family, amongst California Poppies in a backwoods countryside.
By assorted four-legged creatures, who possessed infinite empathetic tendencies.
Pastures of grass and sunshine, before stables of dust and grain.


Hospitals, where despairing parents poked and prodded oranges.
Once, eating sugar cubes on the front step, only to be met with filled syringes, to chase the glucose away.


A backyard wishing well, filled with smooth glass; a rotating weathervane shifting in gossamer wind.
Red clay; ground baked by summer heat, bitten by winter chill.
Remain within, as verdant grasses shrink from flame and freeze.


With book in lap and pencil in hand,
Writing both the beautiful and the grotesque,
Encountering tales of dazzling endeavor.


Roosevelts—
awed by Theodore,
inspired by Franklin,
mentored by Eleanor.







Authors, continually experiencing alternate realities:
histories of myth, lore, and stories of Olympian gods,
Odysseys, and lands unknown to modern man.


A critical viewpoint, cynicism and sarcasm floating in an idea, within a restless mind.
A compass in eternal rotation; shifting foci with incandescent whims.
Present determination, deception, and never-fulfilled desire.
With humility and shyness in the face of adventure.


A unique prospect, an experiment against fate.




A gamble against time.

Self.

Where have I been?


Ultimately,
Where am I going?