Winters—
we like our bodies naked blanketed like letters in an envelopemoving against each-other as though the only warmth in this worldcould come from touch as though the only...
Listen
Joy found in the absenceall about us.
Nothing singedand everything easy.
Harvest pumpkinsglow burnt orange,
smoldered yellow.A cat comes
offeringin its mouth a songbird
pink as greasejust after the...
