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The Willow Tree

It scares me to know
how cold you must be
Sleeping underneath the willow tree
that we planted 15 years ago
Beside the plot where you were laid
In the cemetery where your bones will stay
And I suppose it’s for the best
That your flesh has merged with earth
So the sunshine fills your station
Fixed in this fertile dirt
And through this frigid winter
I’ll pray that you’re kept warm
Comfortably wrapped beneath the willow tree
Where I will greet you soon.

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I recently finished a new EP called “Eastern Autumn.” My new solo project, called City Acres, is a long time coming and I’m incredibly excited that the new music is finished.

The new cd is available on itunes here:
http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/eastern-autumn-ep/id468909807

Please check out the acoustic video for “All We Need,” filmed by Ilze Lagzdina, here:

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Death is both the antithesis of life and the motivation behind it.

I used to want to live forever. At this point, I’d rather just learn how to live in a perpetual state of awareness, appreciation, and awe.

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All Too Far To Reach

My heart was on fire.

Like a flaming Molotov cocktail chucked through a stained glass Church window in the middle of the night, engulfing the darkness with the light it throws against the radiant colors of Jesus Christ’s crown of thorns. My lips remained silent but my head was shouting obscenities at my vocal chords for not letting words pass.

My eyes caught hers in a concentrated stare, ice beams bridging a gap through the empty space that surrounds all of us until we touch someone. That space can never be completely filled though, as particles never really touch, just floating and swirling around the nuclei that binds the world together, atoms soaring through the air but never finding a landing strip to rest their wheels.

To that extent, there is never a departure either, just emptiness that stays empty until an artificial feeling of fullness fools the brain into thinking we’re not completely and utterly alone.

This loneliness was only magnified by the fact that the distance was far too great to consume with the reach of an arm.

One could never, from this location, caress a pointed hip-bone, a soft pearly thigh, a glistening pair of delicate lips. There would be no struggle to unhinge the seemingly inoperable-until-you-turn-40 clasp of an underwire bra, holding the bossom of this young temptress who was all too still with her unknowingly dangerous appeal.

She was just there for the eyes to take in and the mind to ponder, and I was her consumer.

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