publications

the missing.

how to tell you straight away: how rich you are, indeed. there is the sound of snow falling somewhere. in between the blur and the blue i see you holding steady. still bouncing, still barely there, still unaware- i will flex. the power lies in a will made right that will drown, in time. so windswept it sticks me to you.

mornings: sun slanting through like a butterknife, warm breezes, cuddles til the hunger hurts, breakfast at an outdoor cafe.

afternoons: hot sand between toes, the crashing of the ocean hard against the shore, sleepy turnings of pages, people-watching, sand wrestles.

evenings: asian food and red wine. chocolatti gelati, long walks on the cooling streets, over bridges, dancing, adventureplay, silliness and lovedoing.