It Takes Practice To Shave

Poetry - Poiesis Means A Thing Made.

When I Desire You A Part Of Me Is Gone.

Small, Red, And Upright He Waited, Gripping His New Bookbag Tight In One Hand And Touching A Lucky Penny Inside His Coat Pocket With The Other, While The First Snows Of Winter Floated Down On His Eyelashes And Covered The Branches Around Him And Silenced All Trace Of The World.

Desire Is No Light Thing.

I Do Think I Have An Ability To Record Sensual And Emotional Facts And Factoids, To Construct A Convincing Surface Of What Life Feels Like, Both Physical Life And Emotional Life.