A single rose you spied At the tail end of summer I promised you that I would come. I packed my bag and left my grey In trails of pallid cotton candy To take the first train out of Bedlam. You meet me at the station Formalities straight up and neat But yo...
I am the unsent scarlet letter. Tucked somewhere between Revelations and Acts In her family bible. The one you don't subscribe to. Worn at the edges, Handwriting faded...and still looking for a stamp or a lightening bolt from the heavens. Cut me and you w...
And a quick pulse deepens in the sheltered arbor of a dream. And in it, I watch you sleeping in my bed. Rhythmic muscled rise and fallOf a mans soft, deep breathing. The sharp lean edge of a well defined jaw.The angular planes. The memory by rote. I lean...
There could never be a Silver Bullet Quite efficient enough for the likes of Scarlett. She would have already calculated angle, trajectory and speed For the most efficient of her brontide crescendos. The reducing flame for Cadmium is grey and opaque. How...
If you remember just one thing.... Remember when she spoke your name In seven different voices. Delicate as an apple blossom. As if you were not flesh and bone But starlight and a million different shades of lavender. Remember her tongue on your skin Ling...
And I rage for Tino Rangitiratanga How strange it is that I remember a line I read so very long ago. "Bees in Mykanos hum in a minor chord" And I am still here in this unsteady place of ebony water and bull kelp. From where I stand with spine to rope, I c...
I want you most when the she wolf howls a savage song of lust and longing. When thunder detonates my core Fusillades and salvos slam my weak defences. I want you most When wild and pelting rain licks and stings my skin trailing liquid tongues of ecstasy W...
There is a yellow paper origami bird that sits on my dashboard. It smells like the sun. Citrus with overtures of vanilla. I'm growing terse, this shows itself in light. Not how it pools and dimples, but how it shreds. And the "thisness" shows thin in all...
And the sharp dark corners of winter unfold Chiaroscuro and creases and uncertain lines. He does not know me And yet I draw him My own contrived deity. His words stained His hand the plot of Anna Karinina. Not knowing I threw him away Then drew him again...
