by August, we’re sick of summer sweat   and mid-February, fed up  with cold ears and fingers   the scarcity of perfect days means we’re...

you and I change at dusk, pull back from the outside close ranks, gather inside walls   we know darkness is only read thru hearing,...

the taste of fine steak colors of a sunset the suffering heart after a break-up   the rain-bloated clouds of the desert that thunder...