I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev… to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform

Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone

I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,

We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and

When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence

My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…

I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived

There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win

The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…

When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,

She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running