“ ...your memory is a warm stone hidden in my hand I'm always turning over... ”
...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...
~ John Geddes
...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...
...no good writing flows from a polluted well - you can write about monsters, but you can't be one...
...I don't just wish you rain, Beloved - I wish you the beauty of storms...
