meet me with the face
you had before you were born,
for I’ll recognize even the shadow
of your name on a plain of mist.
I, again, will break the bread
of light in your eyes, and simply be
chalice and wine. in your throat,
softly, a dove will groan - you
whose hands have tasted
little of the good earth
of a woman.
between us a flower
will open,
and you’ll understand
how many amaranthine moons
a single arum unfolds












































..wow. I was always in awe of your talent, this is why.
106 old applause
