Read a book while hours slip by. Traverse countries with adventure. Experience a love more tender than prose. In the long run, I adore these works of art in life.

Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
Read a book while hours slip by. Traverse countries with adventure. Experience a love more tender than prose. In the long run, I adore these works of art in life.
Perhaps the purest substance of human light is concentrated in art itself. Abstract the essence of every book.
Art suggests a fragility that it is too vulnerable in the world. But it is precisely that backhanded compliment to explain wonder in the unassuming mundane.
This book serves as my epigraph, a work of art turning other people's creative fictions into poems that explore life experiences.
That's the whole point. I don't want to fade I want to flame away - a work of art ablaze with hope.
Beauty expressed by art can awake in us a sensation so whole that we speak of these things and try to understand.
To observe art as an impersonal thing is common. Between the lines an shapeless blurs is a singular experience outside the trivial.
The Picasso of my soul was love. The girl I love.