To buoy the flagging mood, I went to buy fresh pulp - even though I am running out of floor space in my sub-cave to construct new leaning towers of books.

I found two hardback volumes of Solzhenitsyn's opus The Gulag Archipelago for 4 bucks a piece, along with the usual haul of slender poetry volumes.

Trust those crazy Russians to write book that can damage your foot, if you have an 'oopsy' moment while reading them. Also most definately not comfortable to put these tomes on the chest, and read oneself to sleep!

She follows close behind. Those silver anklets ringing Against the ladder steps.

Her throat, blue with love-bites, Sometime repeats what I Whispered in her mouth.

The only things constant Between us: desire for each Other, desire for silence.

Lifting her dark aureoles To my lips, she pretends An innocence of intent.

Lying on the bed, semi-nude, Delicacies on a green banana leaf, She mocks my hungry fervor.

She hums back a few bars Of song I was writing down. Even parrots don’t have Such brilliant red mouths!

Just before twining of limbs, She holds my wrist to see How much longer I can wait.

Some nights, waking up to Thunder, when I see her leg Thrown over mine, I think It must also hide lightning.

Going from corner to corner, Sweeping, when she passes By me at the window, a caress With just the curve of her hips.

She lies open, a book with pages curled, All the lines sketch a history before time. The only color I see, glistening red, Is when I open her to the cold air.

Read Robert Penn Warren's poem.

Their trailways: North -South Mine: East-West

The idea of journeying with seasons The idea of cycling in time.

Landscape and response to it; Mnemonic devices of memory.

Idea of fidelity: mate for life out of biological necessity. Is love between Homo Sapiens such a necessity? a possibility?

Neck held like a question mark On the cloudy page of a lake. Gliding, with staves of music trailing behind them. Why, then, Is their honking so harsh to hear?