*this is not a poem, this is a speaking of the...
It has often been said that one who enjoys war is...
I have walked
through the meadows...
She flicks a fanned image of Catalan art
under the parasol with a twitching...
You stitched words and paved
lines with your silence. Took one...
It helps to listen
as much as it helps to talk...
Cosmic
Thoughts roam around...
The night is skintight and my tongue is dry
because of missing words and closed lips...
I'm the olive in your martini,
stinging from a splash of vermouth...
If I could fly to the star-freckled sky
on a bitter winter's night, I'd graze the moon...
Love-
why do I even try...
I'm keeping looking at me in the mirror for a long...
Who're you in this six-billion world...
Its on the tip of my toungue
They're right in the front of my mind...