crazy in love, continued like the flow
of a small and quiet river, hoping
one day to console a little white cloud
that cried at the end of another river
one comes to realize a certain wisdom
entangled in the afternoon. Not of mind.
But of bone, the tendons, and beyond
The signs are all there: Mangroves their roots rising feet above the low tide muck of living in calligraphies of profound silence—fiddlers at their fierce game of mastery and mating— … Continue reading