Published in 2011. 125pgs. Foreward: "Out of night and alarm, Out of Terrible dreams, Reach me your hand, This is the meaning of all that we Suffered in sleep, - the white peace Of the waking." Edna St. Vincent Millay. Poetry came at 11:34pm on October 18, 1986. Old locks changed, the house utterly silent. Grief, relief, shame, freedom, the oaks shining like silver lace across the hillside. And deer, patches of fog and moon. I understood that the offering one's power is not the same as the taking of it. It's also true that where one begins and the other stops is not easy to see: look at the skin of the hand. Were does front and back begin? Poetry leads me on the sontinuing journey to fine my self. It has changed me more than violence ever did.
