~
an edge-
dancing soaken,
rearrange every gesture,
from a corner of my eye-
craves everything unsettled
for what?
that mystery,
caught alone-
to slide into darkness
how fearing
hands shake,
tease and touch -
quilt fascism
from under bareness,
and you know
when brushes find color-
how skilled one must be,
witness to rarity -
wedged fragrance of pollen,
showered
under lamps -
lime green mass
against midnight,
waits unraveled only
once
~

11/04/2001

Posted on 11/04/2001
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