If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Thursday, March 3, 2011

Still On R

Bloom now, my physician of sick pearls and I will swallow your confessions, hidden under my winter tongue.
Bloom now, barefoot, and we can brace for the imbroglios, reciprocal nostrums in our first spring’s sun.


Feel free...