I use odd words In everyday speech. Ink runs from my mouth Indelibly impressed by the ancients and Imitator of their thought. Identified proudly with the lovers of wisdom, Intellect is no obscenity to me. postscript For day 13. Poetic form: Pleiades I don't mean to say this
Fragility was never truly mine. The rose I was back then Was never so much petals, but all thorns And here I am again; A shaking stem in storms I can't define. It shatters clean like glass: This thunder overhead from fury borne Will just as quickly pass
I feel a sense of next In everything. "When finally I am able, I will." "After this season, I will." But there is no hurry To next. For time is a measurement of the progression of history through space And in the present, I can in
I fled him down the nights and down the days But I ran unaware I would be caught. For love is greater yet than rebel ways And would that I had known t'was all for naught. I am too loved to be left free to stray And he
At times I may forget it in the midst of the mundane When the sound of your soft breathing, unobtrusive as the rain Is puncturing the night, soft and slow, full and real That we once walked in misted evenings, starlight we could feel. And we surrendered memories beneath the