There is no urgent need to read these words. They won't teach you how to build or fix anything. Nor will they inspire you to change your life. No sign of any paranormal zombies making insignificant love will appear between these lines. Neither will I attempt a cute, digital age push toward "liking" a social media site page I just created complete with a tawdry cover-art illustration of a hunk or hunkette's buff chest across which lies a long-stemmed rose leaking drops of blood to signify a teenaged broken heart that beats inside a post-adolescent body that just barely graduated high school and considers itself an author by virtue of owning a computer and an Internet connection.
Verse I: Love In The Time of Horowitz30 04 2012
All I can do is stand and applaud in the shadow of this post.