In the darkness
She reads his mind,
Brailing the sure heft,
The extent of his body.
Considered kisses
Are soft as cotton;
She can ignite them
Like matchsticks.
Then coolly watch:
They’ll burn slo-mo
All the way down,
Kiss her fingertips.
Cocooned by breath
Shaped like a kiss,
Think--the perfect color
Should be called 'Kiss,'
Would stick irresistibly
And ever so lightly
As if reluctant
To separate.
Usually, only sleep
Casually divides them--
Wait, and they fuse again
Confused by dream-space.
________
"bad idea, right?"
More meetings today, including two terribly fraught ones... including one in the boardroom where 99% of the portraits on the wall are of old...
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Friends and old neighbors shutting it down in honor of John Crawford. _
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At had us pose for this pic up at Aunt R's place on Lake Huron so he could put it up in his dorm. "Don't tur... -
I have the feeling that I’m going to succumb to the season and put out a list of resolutions soon. Just wanted to establish this heads up th...
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