Now that nothing has been done Before, you can speak of the stigma style and ovary Fourth whorl of the flower You can run your tongue Along the lips of the sleeping No one has touched Your hair, described the fall of it …
Light snow falling in the listening area, something has to keep me from the radio and other forms of incidental contact like The current time is or I see silver plunging in the days ahead. Why not poetry? AM clouds give way to PM sun. I wish I’d written …
