A little poem looking forward to the deep and heavy summer ahead:   The sun is pounding the cement in Glendale. Palms sway gracefully to a silent, unheard anthem; their leaves dancing. With few window open, most shutters are closed...

Anger will stain your mouth,  break your bones,  poison your brain.    It will bury you in sorrow,  eat you up,  spit you back out,  lingering for more.    It will find its way under your skin,  into your...

Oh, for time is a fickle thing, Everlasting and ever-changing.   The morning dew woken early by a summer breeze  and the flowers bloom. They sit upon a hill, basking in the glow of the midday sun,  breathing in the sobs of a quiet...