224 words
are not enough
to hold your complexity
to describe your life
to tell your story
224 words
discretely categorized
these on education and profession
those on the passions that fired your mind
cannot suffice
I could write novels
stories and essays
odes and sonnets
vignettes and epigrams
and still not compass
all you were
to me
to any of us
224 words
cannot scratch the surface
of the sadness and pain
that in the end
consumed you but
224 words
are all that fit
into the columned inches
to tell the world
you are gone
. . .
Unraveling Time
Desert Wind
Ploughman's Son
Ploughman King
The Year the Cloud Fell
The Spirit of Thunder
Shadow of the Storm
The Cry of the Wind
Beneath a Wounded Sky
Cryptogenesis: A Memoir
[…] with 19th century-style chrysanthemums, it fits easily in two hands. It is from the estate of my recently deceased brother, and while it is totally not like him in style, its contents—pipes, Malian artifacts, a bracelet […]
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My heart is aching for your loss. Mark was an amazing man, and a dear friend. Your words are beautiful, and echo how I’ve felt since I heard the news.
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