We poets do not write for recognition.
We write for revelation.
:: 04.07.2022
IN a WORD are the little things
the meaning bigger than me.
Within a Soul is great soup
the tongue and her taste great.
Inside the nest unborn eggs
unpublic – slanted sight!
My unborn babies are largely great
inside only a single name:
a lifelong dying Soul as me –
Admirning time and her quaint space.
A poet? For me yes but you for
saving grace a possibility.
:: 02.14.2022 ::
LOVE my love
never dies
sometimes weak…
But you keep
a fire lit
— between us
In the night
such might
bequeath us
Such delight
the arrow
— of Cupid…
Binds us…
pierced
— as one
Never leave
but believe
such a gift…
rare is love
:: 01/20/2014::
SECRET dream I expected you!
this today I said to another
you would be here to explain
my strange being yesterday
What say you today my love!
do shadows flee in red love
and scamper about in weakness
say no because I know such love
Show your face in love flower
run with me across fire fields
smell my lust robust lover
fall upon my stems lower now
Kiss me petal flesh-see
touch my heart forever-be
hug me hot-bee sting stick
die love-bee with only-me
::01/13/2014::