This dawnlight spills on grasslands wide and bare,While elephants move slow through morning haze,Mount Kenya stands in silent, stony praise—A god of stone, unmoved by human care.My thoughts, like dust, were drifting in the air,No compass fixed, no voice...

The flattering, elegant strangerchained me suddenly to her heartwhen I blissfully closed my eyesand she pressed her finger into my lipsand whispered with hypnotic eyes,“No, I am not for you nor anyone.”The rhythm of her voice evokedsomething within me...

With cold dead hands,a ghost I amto you alone now.With cold dead handsthat are unseen,unfelt, and unanticipated.With cold dead hands,my visits unknown to youmaking you shiver,and lips embalmed in ice.With cold dead hands,I will call on youto feel your...

At the edge of the morning,they shimmer—stripes stitching and unstitching the plain,a restless river of black and white dreams. Each hoof prints a fleeting mapon the dust that forgetsand the wind that remembers. Ears tilt toward the unseen,eyes catch the flick...