Triplet weave,
sleeve pages
turning wheels,
I deal with emotions.
expression
somehow finds
words,paint or clay
to cup my bleeding heart
all day.

Read to me
from your favorite book.
Lean in close;
so I can feel
the parts that
leave you breathless,
And I could become that.

Write a poem a day,
then more.
Turn my guts inside out
and read the tea leaf patterns
Bottom swirl the wretched spills
on love's road bleeding.

why do I abide
in the throes of love,
whether weather fine or storms for all my eyes to see,
this is what I want to be,
rain,rain and more rain.

Fingernail drawing a slit
through an overripe moon
the juice of its light
dripping celestial body
across the little-
black dress of night.

The weeping in the hollows
Struck a tune.
Fit for a clown,
Fit for a loon.

some flowers
never tell you
their names.
(you just remember
what she smelled like).