| I meant to say this to you yesterday |
| I know entirely the unseeming absence of your nothingness, your because it is my yellow rose, whole presence around the blossoms, we (each one) plant in conversation, like necessity makes complete the something that is our today. I, to walk through haunted coffee cellars, need but one thought of youness to do so. To words, as if tongueing them, you plant kisses in your unusual manner, son of a minister chaos of my order. Heal my onlyness for disclarity, water my rows of pistil metaphors forever. |
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| 1995. Iowa City, IA |
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