d. c.

i dreamt that the sky opened: all the inhabitants of village-me collected big buckets and bottles, put them on the ground, and caught liters of light to bathe the starved children and heal

you crawl at the crossroads of thought near emergency exits at the mall knocking on house doors unheard and slow like a soldier in camouflage to rape my hands rob the

Motto: I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion - I have shudder\'d at it. I shudder no more. I could be martyr\'d for my religion Love is my religion And I

clapping knock at the door of your morning imperial life line we have so much to read yet you\'re saying the library of your love is closed and salesmen are too busy to breathe the same

sun wakes without leaving grass time to dress, they purr together

~~:~~ i\'m a silk season. i lick your throat of its honeysuckle tenderness minutes devoured \'\'\'\'\'\'\'i\'m naked window to your thought consumed like the sands of time that mirrored

i’ve been having fun with the moon replacing time with this cubist mess called asymmetrical love, that shape no one teaches us about in public schools, graveyards, or internet cafes, and she

stray tears stalk the tree of your involuntary lies their solitude smells somewhat saint disregarding cars’ sensory deprivation due to watching your back …and the guilt of this

i\'ve been making love to the solar system led by the fencelessness behind your glance for nine years and three quarters now, under arrest, kept at least 50 meters away from our routine by