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| photo by Amie |
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| Photo by Deborah |
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| Photo by Deborah |
Lots of my people read today. Not everyone could, the audience was so big. There was a lot of good writing. LAVA is kind of fairyland. I got to spend two days in a row experiencing really interesting work done by fellow artists. And I felt physically well enough to enjoy it; although by the time my reading time was up I thought my leg was going to give out on me. I may have rushed a little too much towards the end, as well. All in all it was a great weekend.
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| photo by Deborah |
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| photo by Deborah |
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| Photo by Dina |
As
You Sail Away
I’ve
stopped asking for your hands
Not
that I’ve stopped wanting
them
to clutch on to my shoulders.
I’ve
stopped wanting them to be mine,
you
automatically knowing
where
your thumb
fits
to release that
tiresome
ache on
either
side of my spine.
I
stopped assuming
that
touch was a normal
part
of our day
your
arms, your mouth
they
are slowly going away.
My
life has come to another stop,
another
time of change,
a
time to embrace newness
accept
that the small
handmade
sailboat of my
life
is unmoored,
anchor
has been placed
on
deck and it is drifting
away
from me
with
your hands,
your smile
your mouth
aboard
a
paper
sail
upon
the lake in Central Park.
I
want to ask you
for
one more time
I
want to ask you
for
gentle warm up
and
fire crescendo
and
sweat and tears
in
a final grasp,
But
I know too well
I’d
just want more.
I’d
want to do it
again
and again
until
we do it right
when
to grab
when
to buck
when
to hold you too tight
when
to roll away.
I
want to learn to
make
you gasp
or
smile as you
kiss
my face.
But
I know all of that
is
on that tiny boat
moving
away.






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