four poems from "Sonnet, a renga"



the air forms to your body
without effort
I breathe you in
not so much a matter of will
as it’s a matter of will not
“a rose unfolds despite its beauty
the weed despite our disdain”
he longs and obsesses
as easily as she coyly
plays with her hair
laughing all the while
intent



(2011-2012, from Sonnet, a Renga)


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