cannibal
after november
blind
to not be numb
dream (four times)
forgetfulness
angel
first morning
laconic
drown
deep
maidenhead
milk
this
wake
dark blue
rotten scorpio
little v. flea
from me to you
exit
dry
the lines left behind
guilty
sever desire
falling slowly
esperando
dark spiral
sparkle
confetti
bodies pound beats
I go deep
far, far into him
a million miles down
into his well
which always
shimmers, full
As these waters rise into me,
holding me a part of them
(within me)
I recall his stunning
poetry
of motion, balance, spirit,
and I see that all he does
he does deeply
I am gazing into him
a stunning, beautiful well
And I am reflected there,
there inside him;
but what I see
is not my face,
my body or hands
It is light
It is heat
It is a million threads
weaving down a well
a million miles deep.
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