“Whose woods these are I think I know.
 His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and  miles  to   go  before
I sleep. “ Robert Frost.




This is dedicated specifically to everyone who was there, especially those who inhabited the chat; those that stayed, those that came to say hello, the jokers, the mysterious friends, Justin, Odette, Kaitlyn, Kristy, Kira, Amy, and everyone else. Obviously to those involved in the livestream, seen and behind the screen: the boniver fam.

I don’t know why it hit the way it did. Maybe Urytpus had a similar reaction? and we are similar in age, so maybe that has something to do with it? Maybe there were other forces at work in the grand design of things. It is as if I was supposed to do this and had no real choice. I just went where the path led.

I don’t understand what happened and why I spent five months on the stream obsessed with it, and then six months trying to pick at that knot but possibly just making a bigger tangle.

I marvel at it though. It makes no god damn sense. 

and y’know? maybe that’s fucking fantastic.

my life has been full of too much making sense of every little thing.

I love you all.

If you have taken the time to read my words, here, there, anywhere… Thank You.

I have a hard time finding the words to express this gratitude but maybe you will get a sense of it by reading the book, the one I wrote. 

I am a little sad to finally close the cover, to say finished and send it out on its way, but I know this experience will be there working its way through what will follow. And I have a book to read when I need to remember. And so now, do you.

I wrote the poems for myself not really understanding what I was writing. They just rushed out of me. But I compiled them in a book, and edited it, spent months reading and rereading, did audio, listened carefully to the words, carried them around in my heart…  that part, the labor of love, that tending of the garden through spring and summer, I did for you all. So you might find it one day.


None of this makes sense, but maybe the world doesn’t make sense. That’s just what we try and impose on it.

Look for the Light in the Dark, friends. 

love you all, 

piano.