nuzzled in your scent,
my body lies heavy… spent.
my loins weep with joy
Archives for February 2011
whistling tree
bird on top of tree,
why do you whistle at me.
you know i love thee.
green fingers
green leaves are pointed.
flat and sharp like zulu spears.
accusing fingers.
enter riot
the dollars are slow.
they walk in like wounded men.
when is the riot?
burned thoughts
in the cold bright day
you can see your breath speak back.
ghosts of burned up thoughts.
pressed flowers
yesterday’s flowers,
seem rosier than today’s.
pressed flat in my mind.