Stephen Carey Biography

A glass of water sat on a book of poems,
Hiding the moon,
Pointing out the angels,
Jutting out of the window.
...

No, brother, we shouldn’t go there.
Let’s turn and go another way.
‘Cause you know the dead grass grows where
You are on your last day.
...

The rose
Is the symbol
Of love,
But that doesn't
...

That was it,
That was my chance,
The one I prayed for.
It did come,
...

I stand at a pass, the top of a hill,
With a path like a trident.
Three castles in my view,
The first, a castle of old, a divine terror,
...