I know what I cannot know and still
Achy yearn to know it
My fingers itch to touch sometimes
Or desire makes dust of my lust
Lust is candy to this lady
I very rarely crave it
Desire is calla lilies filling my eyes
With tears and touching my heart
With a pain incommunicable
Sometimes I feel the brush of something holy
Desire is the immaterial involuntary
Call for love
The ache is the scruff-raising wait
For a possible response
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2010
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May
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- still stormy after all these yearsI have a questio...
- The Fountain Here, there’s the place where she dro...
- a single mosquito swarms, beyond the window it rai...
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- May 15thAt the garden every thing was Soft roses...
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