"Melodic versatility, lyrical playing...carving out his own niche at the top." - St. Louis Post-Dispatch

Apart

I hear your voice
Pinched through wires
Electronically filtered, bent, displaced
I read your words
Pinched through wires
Electronically filtered, bent, displaced

I do not see the heart, the throat, the tongue, the lips
That form the voice and shape the words
Nor the hands or fingers that type the words
The marks of humanness

I cannot smell your skin, your hair
The aroma of your soul
I cannot touch the hands that paint or hold the bread
The fingers that touch me
I cannot see the eyes that see
The calming peace in mine

An unwarranted separation
A union in need of restoration
A garden of love
Untilled and unfulfilled