Sacred and ecstatic songs not bound by any one tradition as all contemplative poems are fingers pointing to the same moon. Go to end of page for a listing of archived poems.
8.02.2006
Wing
I fly after you on one wing which only sends me in circles shedding feathers till I sink like a bug sliding down a drain.
You catch me and we run through fields sipping light till we collapse drunk on breath and the laughter inside.
