Love comes quietly
Love comes quietlyfinally, drops
about me, on me,
in the old ways.
What did I know
thinking myself
able to go
alone all the way.
The Flower
I think I grow tensions
like flowers
in a wood where
nobody goes.
Each wound is perfect,
encloses itself in a tiny
imperceptible blossom,
making pain.
Pain is a flower like that one,
like this one,
like that one,
like this one.
that first poem is so lovely hills. thanks for coming to dinner the other night...keep me posted on your schedule in Cali.
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