Poem

Maybe you are a prude if you dislike sex

talk, all the glory of communion hexed

by common language, the internal model

ruined by constant tinkering and thought.

Maybe the world was already vocal and foolish

before Adam came along, naming names; still,

Eve must have been embarrassed by the words

she had not chosen for herself. 

Yet, the world remains the world itself, feeding 

back each silent moment to the moment 

before Eden was not enough.

[LSS, 6/30/21]

Subject Matter

Trying to understand 

the shape of rising steam,

the mirror image

of an empty room,

where I might be able

to find you tomorrow.

[LSS, 6/30/21]