This Sun
This sun, this moon, this moss-covered womb from which love awakes. To know you now, (Why not then? But still … now!) The butterflies have multiplied. I catch t...
This sun, this moon, this moss-covered womb from which love awakes. To know you now, (Why not then? But still … now!) The butterflies have multiplied. I catch t...
Mistress city my fingers trace your long highways– soft as Persian carpets. Your spires lure your lamps conspire your thousand eyes glitter behind neon an...
All the world is in your eye that bends like a reed; the wind–your brush, the canvas–seed. With what strokes the world is made the downy moon, the s...
There are moments that linger in the memory. Such a moment I think is this. She stood upon a precipice– to fly or to fall, and unfolded herself before me,...
The world turned back ’roundand said, “You’ve suffered long enough, old man.” May I say that I love you?The words vault, skitter, and ch...
These are the golden moments– Golden boughs. The end may tremble in a mouth’ed O. Yet still they burn unperturbed– tiny lamps of adoration lit...
I opened your book and what did I read? Whispers of heavenly death murmur’d I hear Only an hour before I drowned a mortally wounded fledgling, too young t...
If I am a means to an end, Then I am neither end nor means. If I am a means without an end, Then I am both end and means.
REFLECTIONS ON MY THIRD 100 DAY PROJECT Wow … it’s been awhile since I posted something on my blog. My life has been full of changes … some go...
DAYS 68, 69, 70, 71, 72 (August 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd 2018) WORSHIP IN THE HOUSE OF A— (first of many drafts) Damn her congenital restlessness. She searc...