Are we so different?



Are we so different?

Does the river not cry as it stumbles and falls?

Is the flesh of rock not the same as mine only hardened by age?

Do your tears not join others and flow to the sea?

Your breathe, nourishment for another soul?

Your sweat damp like earth after rain?

Are we so different?

After all?






The Backbones

The Spine

‘She’s got quite a spine,’ slammed the undisclosed door.

‘It’s solid, for sure,’ spoke the board of the floor.

‘Yes, the bones are evident,’ revealed the light from the street.

‘I can’t see a thing!’ shouted the shadow of feet.