Discretionary Love

Slick branches black, chronic with lichen, stiff with old-winter tenacity, but blurred, softened, rumpled like silk sheets the morning after, dimpled with haphazard rain-fire. We

If I did not belong to her— if there were no me— no scar borderline on her belly to mark my exit— I imagine I

Hair tassels fall into my eyes, and I hear forever’s tune,     the sway of breath and skin in nightfall June,     her

I. We called you Fabio, hair of gold, long, and unruly. The girls came with no effort from you. A quiet mystique, they all wanted

noun 1. a dating app a place for lonely people. to be dragged across the glass. the way grief drags us. a white streak on

Linger The southern side of your radiance is a pour of white lights held in a child’s worn blanket – a glass of warm bourbon. 

I began each day as if it were a reflection of all the desire that has passed before [ ]. Which is to say I

pink scarves needled with gold moths strong tea and weak men. On occasion a cool slap by a hard palm. She hates corset bones and

as we melt—– flesh to flesh being the spirit’s most endless zone. How can I be this close without losing myself? Miles of details arrive:

She is searching for a loving dude, the single one who will understand what she offers through the information portals of life, a man who