I smell this rose.
it sits on a twig among
the statues.
This garden
still filled with morning mist and
some of last evening’s feelings
Moonlight lingers in each drop on
its petal
I plucked unknowingly.
August 1988
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See AllI sense the world from my guts, and by that… I mean I sense the world from the roots of my ancient ancestry. From the depths of surviving...
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