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All morning, I pour waterout of the boat. Strings pulledtoo taunt cannot make musicthick as desire, but can beused as the silk for a web to catch necessary objects:
cups and saucers, thimbles and lanterns, the blood of fruit stains wood,creates the scene we live into.
It is for you to know I was bornout […]

swirls around our ankles darkpleasure, in the evening’s soft nocturnes.

birthday world,
love,me

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We open ourselves in charcoal,in veins of wet ambergrisfrom the mother love, I castthe silver line, reel inunfinished paintings, skinof Adonis not quite right,the Italian countrysidegreyer than it should be, you and I standing with pocketsfull of wishing stones.I wrap my hands around them,and wonder if we can rememberthe magic tricks we taughtourselves when we […]