Heart to Heart It’s neither rednor sweet.It doesn’t meltor turn over,break or harden,so it can’t feelpain,yearning,regret. It doesn’t havea tip to spin on,it isn’t evenshapely—just a thick clutchof muscle,lopsided,mute. Still,I feel it insideits cage soundinga… Continue Reading
Beneath the Southern Cross Oh-To beNot anyoneGoneThis maze of beingSkin Oh-To cryNot any crySo mournful thatThe dove just laughsThe steadfast gaspsOh-To oweNot anyoneNothingTo beNot here But hereForsaking allEquatorial blissWho walked throughThe callow mistDressed in scraps… Continue Reading
Having a Coke with You is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonneor being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelonapartly because in your orange shirt… Continue Reading
Journal, Day Three Poetry and Painting On a cloudy day, at the ocean, staring out at the horizon, one can see two things. That the earth does curve. And that the place at which the… Continue Reading