The Fig Sonnet
She leaned into me.
The wind pushed me back.
The glare closed my eyes.
The bird grasped the limb.
The tweet soothed my chills.
The rock warmed my heart.
The stone felt my hand.
The gold cleft the blue.
On iron red tipped mountains high,
heat and scorched earth cracked in rays,
waves brought by arid death—
beams shooting through salt flats barren an age ago,
cracking the range as Earth splits the crust westward through
Corrente alternada, turbulenta ou serena.
Na praia, perguntaste ao homem do casaco cinza:
Como defines “a vontade”?
Com o dedo ele desenhou uma onda senoidal na areia, e depois apagou-a
com braçadas a seu alvedrio. Uma dose de...
Two Lovers Meet
When his grave crumbled and departed,
a bright fresh guest will entertain.
He in contentment remain,
as the living will leave brokenhearted.
Numerous jewels have sparkled,
grayish hairs across the bones are plain.
There is a path...
Can pluck a Stradivarius,
sculpt a David out of marble,
pleasure oneself, or a loving partner,
scratch an itch, pick your nose, wipe your ass,
write a play, applaud and give a standing ovation,
tie a shoelace or...