Here is a hill to race down, a blind spot where journeys end. Some nights these woods are haunted by owls squinting darkly at the tongues of fools, tongues beating out the only messages they know: “me, me, me, me, me!” Continue reading »
Love gets its trial in the darkest of courtrooms Where the unassignable Judge Speaks out– I have seen its witness travel on a bus heeding the signposts of love’s oncoming verdict I have seen love tried without much fuss Then weighed their eyes with the stealth Of a juror uninformed or lost Without much gain– … Continue reading »
