You are the glove to my hand,
the taut stretched softness of my guiding
influence, which moves as I with
undulating eagerness, complementary
with our combined wishes.
You are the covering for my warmth
and protection, tender rough, soft wooing
wonder of my delight.
You are the strength and ever resilient
barricade against the element’s siege.
Without the glove, the hand is cold
and unprotected.
Without the hand, the glove is empty
and neglected.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
Rodd
JC xoxoxo
~Alexandra~