Sometimes, you hear your words catch in my throat, but you never see your thoughts glued between my ribs until I break curved bones to get them out. One by one, things are lost, repeatedly. We grind unused feelings into our coffee, and drink them, black. Soft lips need hard kisses, and our mouths intersect in a laced haze of white lust. It’s the perfect alibi when we’re looking for the way out.


  1. you write so damned well. for instance, you honestly describe in your poetry love and making love, and the enormous power love and lust have over us. but you also show that there is always a price to pay, such as broken bones in this poem. also, your poems are full of images of bodies: lips, bones, necks, bruises, tongues,… something quite elemental about your poems that make them “real.” i hope to see an announcement here soon that you are bringing out a collection of your poems, or perhaps you already have? it would be wonderful to see them and your excellent photography in print.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This is such a late reply– my sincere apologies mister. And my sincere thanks too. Writing is a bit seldom these days…seldom muses, or perhaps just elusive ones. There is no collection of poetry other than in this small patch of screen. Perhaps one day. Thanks for planting that seed of thought– means a lot.


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