The Pulse of Your Skin
Your hands come alive
following contours of form and thought
in carvings and chairs…
Emptiness of Form
My arms ache something intense
The emptiness of this embrace
sears my chest and mind
My tender delta drowns itself…
August Blue
The mist lifts off the river like the hand of a lover caressing the face of their beloved. A slight wind picks up behind you, rustling the leaves just enough…
“I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.”
― Anais Nin