eyes awaken, asleep. I dream the taste of purple I dream the touch of you. I dream of tall grass fields on my… shuddering in magnificent breath.
his gloved hand reaching veiled indifference death of a stolen voice crushing, squeezing
She saw them fishing poles in hand, walking fro… Fingers, gnarled, crippled with the passing of age. The skin around their eyes, a cany…
his exit, his entrance stars in solemn shades countdown in pink orbs we, burning out suns commencing solitude
starlight sings silver catalyst for dreams the woosh of the window unit roars with smokey tang on my lips, I shi… shoulder to door pane, perceptions…
She walked the raised concrete streets, built from the backs of someone whom she didn’t know. She walked the raised concrete streets, surrounded by creatures of origin. The rain cascade...
my heart has rooms that sigh filled with dust of disuse, of mis… Waking world
I list their names on my heart Count them... ad nauseum, infinity… They, who sew my shroud. I list their names on my heart They, who released it
He speaks with a purpose that dema… with soft, soliloquy of word to sh… the emulsification, the blood of b… and women carrying the weight of m… Storyteller. Anthropologist.
the taste of purple inundation eatery fingers flowing in scratching clutch we hold
and in that tear, everything broke every shard of pain, every loss the losses yet to come her voice, her heart caught
there is a chamber there is a heart we dream it we taste it ours, unconditionally
The touch that spans length and difference I feel the distance that he holds captive in heart and… one reach, one touch
for the beauty of the day we wept huddled mass one, singular in thought we
all the poetry inside, the curtain… dropping dusty upon the frailty of my words the world, too old my thoughts, too young, too same
