

What It's LikeThe wind blew the curtains in fringes all across the dark windows, sending pungent smoke casting away back to the earth it came from, and the sun quietly went about finishing it's setting. The sky was torn open in one long pink streak, the beginnings of night pouring out of the gash, stars and wild blackness spilling from the horizon. The air hummed with all the strange sounds of silence that turn evening to night and night to those incomprehensible after-midnight hours.What It's Like
She realized, sitting there in the folded warmth of the room, that there was very little being done that wasn't done by nature. The pulse of the crickets and the
Saffron.

His Laughter First Persuaded..His Laughter First Persuaded Me...His Laughter First Persuaded..
His laughter first persuaded me To trust in what he seemed to be. Tangled in his flaxen hair Was sunshine, lost in silken snare. The stoney fabric of his eyes Was lit with things that could prescribe To cure my ailing heart of fear And put away what once was near.
I saw his porch, his drapes, his bed, All things that by which I was led To know a new and brighter boy Whose sureness made him somehow coy. We sat beneath the autumn trees And tasted summer on its knees. When dusk light moved across his brow &nb


UntitledI, who am, continue on from Wednesday to Thursday, Past days and moments to a secret grove within myself. A forested place of wetted grasses, Where hues return to base and stony fabrics. No windows are there for no walls. Only open, wild places of perfect movement.Untitled
Here tastes are distinct and virgin, while my tongue is unafraid Of poisons, both foreign and familiar. And each pregnant thought &