Poetry is an orphan of silence.

Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships.

If the sky falls they shall have clouds for supper.

When people ask me how to find happiness in life I tell them, First learn how to cook.

There are people who live inside their heads and their intellects. It's something one is born with and stuck with. It's not something you make a decision about.

Wanted: a needle swift enough to sew this poem into a blanket.

Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.