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One
There are the whispy looks backward, the hopes of floating through the galaxies of the eyes again, of footsteps at night down a long hall, a waking dream, a love turned back into the garden it once was And then one day, the sun sliding down the Santa Monica mountains, the cold Pacific beyond the…
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Inner Child
By a dingy pool in San Franscisco, the morning after his sold out show at the Filmore, Sean Daley casually told me: “I saw what you did. I saw you first in the crowd. Stopped dead. It was you I wanted, even if it was just your eyes. But I saw you give me away…
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Love, interrupted
i realized tonight, somewhere between the sock drawer and dishes, that i still clean on sunday bc you came home on mondays.
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no title
I loved you with my best, you know with silence, before your needs, in mornings and coffee, And the place in me where no shadows grew i loved you, with my fingertips and vividness and all the courage I could find in closeness and distance with a whole kingdom and doctrine of loyalty and patience,…
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span
The rain is playing Rachmaninoff. All fire and dance and impossibility. Slippery between places
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This is how it all started…
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William Smith
Writer & Journalist