Your face burns, in stillness,
outside my winter lane...
She's still in a dream-like trance,
after all these years. Trauma is a...
poetry resides at the tips of your fingers, you...
i know this intimately, because i saw the sun rise...
kaleidoscopic in nature, you are at worst,
a watchfire gone rampant while unattended...
how does softness remain? you’re overwhelming in...
i need you to be – all-encompassing like...
I've been inviting you in
far too often...
my tongue, a honeycomb ripening
in June’s light, my words take flight...
sheath your gaze –
i have no response for your tiger eyes...
you're afraid to close your eyes
once you do the world...
your tongue is the lands where
i harvest sugarcanes and dates...
Smoky pine, cedar, and cloves
haunt the grove close to home...
the tragedy, the love, the tragedy!
This will be found in the following story...