poem twenty eight.

poetic restraint even silence is poetry sometimes one word is too much like typewriter keys and rain in the trees your steady breathing in place of words too harsh i sleep

poem twenty seven.

there are poems in me only released by writing in cursive on a blank white sheet of crisp paper printer paper or cursive paper in this...

poem twenty six.

between us there lay a single hair trudging through the coarse white canyons dreaming of the fine silk that flowed at the motel 6 across the street i woke up 4 times but it was cheap

poem twenty five.

her arm extended to the sky or the wall with the proud exhale of a flamenco dancer head tilted sensual sighing yawning turning over