if you name your hair a rope
whip my soul with it
tighten my neck
i am willing
if you take your fingernail as a knife
strive in my breast
cut my day dreams
split my memories
take my yesterday from me, take my tomorrow
i am willing
if you name your eyelash an arrow
and prick my dreams,
prick my nights
i am willing
if your eyes like sun
sear my mind, scatter my voice
i do not ask what for, how or why
take me to bazaar, sale
i am willing
because the flame of your eyes
is a pair of wings, is peace
it makes my life bird fly
to heaven
to the seven stairs of sky
Welcome!
The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help. Beautiful
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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