i wonder sometimes if these phantom rushes of blood i feel in your absence are the grown-up equivalent of a child belatedly discovering a...

sooner or later, the tea dust will settle and all will be clear.

i taste like the ocean, all sweeping tide and limestone.

enough with this constant wavering - i want to go forth if not in a straight line at least in a web slowly expanding

i think, perhaps you are a lesson in the art of giving and receiving

allow me to disarticulate you.

how about you stop chasing things and allow them to land instead softly at your feet?

you are a secret dripping into my heart.

the way someone soft as water can sweep me into his river, make me crave the thrashing of the rapids.

there is a flower blooming in my throat.