I have been to the edge and back, to the edge where everything falls apart and drops into nothingness, departs into the abyss. It is this edge which keeps me convinced I want to live. …

You hide your face, You bought with precious crimson Flowing from merciful side, You costly stone of azure, Cold and distant as the stars. Where do you lead me? You specks of luminance Circling in ebony folds of night. Where the stars are it is always night. She rises for prayer each midnight hour But instead beholds only your face, You who were hidden before Now appear unwanted. It was the spirit who broods over,

My initiation into Chet Baker was while babysitting for a high school teacher; he left an Italian movies soundtrack spinning on his record player when he left. Although that was the night I began to love Chet, I had heard of him before — a name written on a paper…

Sleep winds its tortuous way Difficult to find. Are there pools of water here? Tell me, my dear, is this an illusion or a lake Or perhaps the Jordan With the Promised Land on opposite banks. Did I imagine being so close to drawing in its waters? They say death…