[1]
Last night you were
stunned
dumb
by the face of a woman
sitting next to you
in a humid room.

And             your hot breath
of desire was a summer wind,
sirocco, knocking the door
of your mind off its hinges.
What to do in face of this?
[2]
Don the scabbard.
Heft the sword.
Put on chain mail
of words.
Ride into a lighted space.
Kneel down in front of
whatever is burning there:
an altar of fire. A ruby dark
sacrificial stone. A muse.
Undress. Bucknaked,
Spill your guts out.




My Poems