where the writers are
I could tell you


I could tell you


About the chair always vacant next to mine:


And oh yes the other side of the bed so fresh and cold


For preservation and pickling


And then let’s speak of the midnight hour when the dogs stir


And the furnace is down


Or the lights go off


And only I know where the circuit breaker is


And the tire goes flat on the side of 101


It’s late at night and I am one tough girl


But what I really want you to know


Is how it feels to be empty and then full


Cold and then warm


Hard and then soft


Like the sweet dew on the grass


Or the taste of your open  mouth


Or the sight of your belly which makes me weeps.


I could lie all day with you and watch the shadows tell time on the pale blue wall


Even If I put my finger down on the floor the world won’t stop.


You are the treasure I stopped searching for a long time ago.