The Ninth

This body, your muted cries -a drying river splitting deep woods,a lowering babble over rounded pebbles.The doe lowering her head, finds dry rock,the rasping tongue on unforgiving stone. Grey clouds that give no respite -your neck in memory, fevered dreams -arching back and forth, hair whipping.Your knees bent alongside rising hips,the fading roar of a … Continue reading The Ninth

On Ragged Mountain

There's a luxury - a pleasure really, it's that more not like the joy of an avocado (not to dismiss that joy, sliding along the skin, opening the ripe fruit to eager hands, fingers sliding into flesh to scoop and taste and slip along the tongue) No, not that but the ecstasy of the familiar, … Continue reading On Ragged Mountain