On listening

It is not what you hear from me
It is what you hear from you

Confessions to a [Priest] who hadn't molested anyone yet...

Dear P,

I have discovered that it's not who I love, it's how I love
That it is in front of another that I have gotten to discover myself
I confess that I never had loved until this very point
Although I've been known to be a lover among many.

-You can now attend your own nasty business dear P-

In the name of love

I exist in a remembrance so profound of the things that are and the things that were so that my only safe corner is to love when I am afraid to love and to love when I don't love so that existence becomes the bearable heaviness on me.
I love you.

Deep Trouble

I am currently lost in the semantics of my being
I will be back shortly...

Farmland View

In the Baa Baa hours of the morning
I heard a sheep calling me out
She gave me a photograph
And told me, make me immortal

Wakening

The poet
Awakens
after the poem