This is a place where stories ride the wind, where memories carve trails through time.

You are here because words still matter — and because some voices never fade.

📜 Dedication

To my uncle, Florian J. Rock —

With nothing more than a worn writing tablet, a few sharpened pencils, a faithful pony, and the quiet thunder of inner forces, you carved your thoughts into the open air of the West.

Though you have long since passed, your spirit rides on — etched in every line, every word, every dusty trail these poems wander. You remind us all that true poetry needs no riches, no spotlight — only a willing heart and a voice unafraid to speak.

Your Soapweed, Sage and Sand still stirs the winds today — whispering across hills, sagebrush, and memory alike.

This dedication also extends to every poet, known or unknown, who ever pressed words to paper with little more than hope and a fierce need to be heard. You are the quiet architects of memory, stitching dreams into the rough cloth of time.

May your voices never be lost.

— Richard Bell