I wanted to write about you.
I wanted some anecdote that would take up your voice
like a rusty gate; your bird’s eyes,
alternately sharp and kind behind ancient glasses;
your hands so weathered,
yet strong and soft
as those thin pages of the Bible
you gingerly turned at 5AM.

My palimpsest brain has nothing-
no convenient vignette-
just images, sensations of ( Read more... )

I am the touch of hundreds of unseeing eyes ( Read more... )

People live ( Read more... )

I hope you know that when I said I love you ( Read more... )

V1 ( Read more... )

It's the first taste of autumn ( Read more... )

I walked through the past--
a ghost in the semi-solid realm
of ancient memory--
and discovered that I

am no longer haunted.

I've been passing time
sucking down fairy-fruit
scented like Christmas
when all I want
is your kisses.

The flame burned down at the tips of my fingers
and I inhaled pale-coloured death, thinking:
we die of consumption.

Ever-burning lights,
Companions through silent years:
Joy I toast to thee.

-----------------------------------

I stand here clear-eyed
at the end and the beginning of all things.

Happy New Year.