Like a door marked do not enter or maybe do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, I have always been kept out or maybe I just didn’t want to go in. DO NOT CROSS… that red ribbon or maybe yellow police tape; what will we find behind it.

4-19-12.

A token of service, a token of appreciation.

This is a poem to my mother about her battle with breast cancer.

A melancholic love poem.

The number of quotes about electrons, barium carbonate, and bonding is astounding.

I actually wrote this one at work on a receipt because it popped in my head.

My life keeps getting shorter the longer it goes…

A short poem.

Poetry of a life.