Brambles crossed and brushed the
trees...

I figure near the equator,
in that sticky delirious...

She is a flower
so romantically white, so sincerely...

Arms flung white and stiff above her head
fingers clutch the shelf...

Kiwi sliced neat and juicy
opaque green beading up like strange fresh blood...

The inane questions are wonderful.
"Why didn't Descartes consider that God could...

I.
Sitting quiet in a bookstore...

Sometime I'll be
getting high, off...

I had a dream last night
where I crossed your path...

The forbidden fruit in Eden was no apple
this orange confirms it...

I was really into smell tonight.
Usually it's touch...

A work in progress...