Daring to speak, wanting to sneak in two words, yet without relief they come like fire into the night: not Fat. Not going. No, not…
If blank verse well-travelled, then the puritans’ words would be holding us today instead of the modernists’ cry, the bards would be vacant and the…
Why do we poke at the evening with light? Still why does it seem that the dusk is contrite? Myriad eyes have seen, many teeth…
If I were to recall those burning pains, it shrinks from me who provided the heat, how it was welded only to fracture at that…
What did we lose in those primordial moments tossed in sarmassation, living in a glass house? I touched your inner comments then, judging me to…
If summer origin’d but one simple sin, like cold water in the morning shower does the gross pleasures of sense attend, for our summer I’d…
You ride me like Neruda wrote tunes: And because love battles, I’d saddle you. And because love straddles steel horses so soon, there is only…
To be vulnerable is to ask for contest, beg for Violence with its mate, Death, to invite them inside for tea and biscuit.…
No words tonight– quiet, no sound, no light, nowhere bound, come with me–step light without ground. Wet, soft, sweetly spell out the words you spilt…
Agnyte, like yellowing eyes half- shut-up with jaundiced doubt, I turn back to you as one waif to another, as one wandering flout might emerge…
Unnamable presence, immersed in my skin yet sinking, learning how the presented tint will ease our new mercy, tout our next win in a game…