Winter Drift

Across the way, thickening winter fog obscures the moored craft in the harbor, muting this watery, drifting place. Skeletal trees stand clustered on boulders along the shore - thrown up by some past trauma or another. A lazy ribbon of snow snakes down beside them, fading as it nears the lapping sea. A cold rain … Continue reading Winter Drift


The Eighth

This kiss, this crying life, and that storywhispered to David, under the hanging gardens -the promise Heloise made to Abelard,the crowning of Ines as Peter wept.Life lost willingly, always a fleeting thing. Time's lash, barbed fingers drawing blood,the groaning underneath, movement within,this kiss, that story.Time over timebody over body.


the map of the geography of desire,revealing a hidden world.traces the geographic coordinates oflove|lust -their intersections.the meridians pulse with energy,sweeping across equators, where careful choreographybecomes necessity,the tracing of a fingeralong a beloved throat,the sound a murmuring heart,the sudden catchin a soft cry. the small things -the devotion to place,not time.the deeper knowingthat comes with devotion,every … Continue reading °

The Seventh

This shared kiss, then:one body, one mouth,exclamations and proclamations, a tumbling tumult.This shared kiss, shared lips. Shared breath, in and out.Fertilizing verdant land, this Garden. This shaking Earth. Writhing groaning gasping life.The shoots of thickening roots, the stirring dirt.Heated sacrifices at the Tree of Life, the sacred fruit,stirs of frenzied motion, this quickening, this spark … Continue reading The Seventh

The Sixth

This kiss, my lips as gardener,feeding heat along a verdant trough,a flickering tool movingin hidden spaces, the private gate discovered.The flowering, once hidden garden, opening. Blooms rising, bursting,from rich, fertile earth,unfurling, rising, seeking heat -a full circle,a frenzied birth.

The Fifth

You, the screaming gale,pushing turbine blades thatrip and scratchat the arching back of insistent winds.The moaning on the threshold - the shaking of the doors. You rush and swirl,a zephyr gathering power,sirocco full of dusty heat, rage -your eyes a swirling whorl,eternal and consuming.

The Fourth

Your skin pressed to my lips,aqueous, a riverto seek along, driventossed and turned, your criesa guide, loons moaning along misty shores. I become your riverine captain,my fingers as recon soldiers, probingfinding inlets, egress and admittance -this combat, now mutual,this struggle overwhelms.