Monthly Archives: July 2018


I know I am writing this Thinking about this Rather than you To tell of trees in the distance That have turned to stone The dusty chess pieces The scar on my thumb Sure You can turn the page Close your heart like a fist Tear me from your mind, but look You too appreciate […]


A clear lake            If the heart were clear If the heart were transparent            If the heart were pure With only the purest things: A mote of dust            A blind boy’s fingers Freedom The impression on a pillow made by the […]


I’m not sure I understand what John Wilmot Is getting at when he says: There’s something Generous in mere lust. Or, am I? He could simply mean generosity of the milieu. To be singularly possessed by it The ground on which we walk The sounds about our heads, and air Become suddenly heady, interactive, Sexy. […]