open door
my door was wide open
he flew in
i’m not sure why
did he find what he needed?
i will never know
he couldn’t find his way out
and died
that is the way
my door was wide open
he flew in
i’m not sure why
did he find what he needed?
i will never know
he couldn’t find his way out
and died
that is the way
reading her my poetry about a man with a swagger ‘neath red flame chandeliers (and comparing notes) circular narratives about life and gypsies and making sense of men (and ourselves) a text to her lover in a moment of mischief fueled with red wine (and some flirting) “I think she’s trying to get me drunk,”…
oh! the uncontainable luxury of a spacious saturday morning as we stretched out on your bed limbs entangled skin to skin we spoke of the spaciousness of the land of man’s need to contain it and the earth’s persistence in asserting herself i– drew a pattern on your beautiful back to illustrate a river’s path…
“I know the way you can get When you have not had a drink of Love: Your face hardens, Your sweet muscles cramp. Children become concerned About a strange look that appears in your eyes Which even begins to worry your own mirror And nose. Squirrels and birds sense your sadness And call an important…
Butterflies were released from the dark places. Her heart, relieved and stronger, flung itself wider. (and she rejoiced)
deep inside the womb deterministic chaos is ready to wail
my capacious heart (open) full moon setting at dawn my capricious heart (following) leaves swirling in cold wind my tenacious heart (wounded) embracing a chameleon sky