I Needed My Mistakes In Their Order

I Wouldn't Be Happy About Being Considered A Love Poet Or An Environmental - I Don't Want Any Of Those Tags.

Of Course There Is Nothing The Matter With The Stars It Is My Emptiness Among Them While They Drift Farther Away In The Invisible Morning

Through All Of Youth I Was Looking For You Without Knowing What I Was Looking For Part Memory Part Distance Remaining Mine In The Ways That I Learn To Miss You From What We Cannot Hold The Stars Are Made.

Separation Your Absence Has Gone Through Me Like Thread Through A Needle. Everything I Do Is Stitched With Its Color.

After An Age Of Leaves And Feathers Someone Dead Thought Of The Mountain As Money And Cut The Trees That Were Here And The Wind And The Rain At Night. It Is Hard To Say It.