Goldilocks
Had hair like a DaVinci angel...

We were not born in a storm.
There were no heavy-browed...

Dreams sweet and dark and hungry:
warm breath on cool skin...

There are lines that cross the void between the...
and shape them to their fates...

I.
Mornings tumbled in bed...

I. Summer
I figure near the equator...

When mincing
at the margin...

The tome in prominence
on my shelf...

Walking together down a path crowded with moss,
white oaks, and thorny bracken we pause...

I want to make worlds
in miniature...

Before the waves and waves of tribes
crested and splashed against the emerald shores of...

Sometime I'll be
getting high, off...