Cottonwoods send white gowned
emissaries to the grass - where I try
To overhear the word that passes
Between the nodding stalks of berries
And the wind - now embroidered by
The flight of skylarks, and dragonflies


My Poems

As I let go of Adrienne's hand
On that foreign veranda -
As foreign as she claimed
I was to her, and as foreign
As that once native ground
Had become. So a foreign
Dusk took me in, by the hand.

And in that hand left a hunk
Of dark bread. I gnaw and
Gnaw on it, with a hunger
(which doesn't seem to abate)
For that evening I last tasted
Stardust from Adrienne's mouth -
Before dusk took me in,
Before darkness fell.


My Poems

on repeat...



Salif Keita's "Tomorrow"


Music Posts