a soliloquy: the edge of moon is red teal is my skirt, blooming of spring lilies slip-fall, skip-boomerang where is the sky [ sky,  sky,  sk...

the yellow wheat fields are endless beneath the cloudy morning zigzagging and swaying in the strong wind the land glows topaz and amber with...

to think that i could be first fruit in Eve's garden amidst star-struck magnolias  & green-eyed apples i could be this- seducing you...

slight smoke hangs in the air the sky swallows its blue, spits out grey i water the pots of zinnias - scorched leaves, delicate buds - pinks...

i would find you between sun-dried flowers spent, tongue rolled back from screaming at the top of your lungs hoping to get my attention forg...

was clear line of my belly filled with salt & seashells holes, much like my memories fading away, a ship in fog was bed of drowned summe...

  it was the road, the odd shape of detours, of camouflaged hands that could not hold the soulful beat of blues, tyranny of language denting...

i. spring hides from the window  the fog is a film in noir bathed in memories of tulips & blue irises (no birds in sight) ii. gusts ...

  your hands were warm, as were your letters against my cold touch i did not know spring then - nor the weight of long winter  this i now...

  Why are your words creased in moon’s indigo carbon copy, a blue my eyes cannot hold? Why are my morning legs ice-struck at dawn, yet l...