Poetry
Summer 1992
Underground
We meet inside the night. You show me how a red and mauve Javanese mask tattoo is kited from an articulate vine straggling your shoulder. We are just below the […]
Poetry
Summer 1992
You Were Wearing Black
In the dead of winter; one hand on the fridge, an orange sun streaming through the window from the bright ice-day. Your life in ruin or in dread; but no, […]