Maka Boots

Love LetterLove LetterLove Letter
For you, Ive written a hundred songs And will write a hundred more A chorused wall of poems sweet Our love letters lying demolished on the floor Where a hurricane has come and gone I am left in its expansive, empty, somber wake Holding the notes I treasure close to me Fluttering butterflies softly whirl to make Lovely whispers, cathedral cries come clear Through the doors that I have shut; I stroke the edge of a paper promise And bleed to death from a paper cut.
oO Temari Oo

WorshipPast gloaming, with its auburn vault, a gloom of august murmurs bump against torn lips. "What's this?"Worship
you ask, suspicious, as occasion twists our plans from hands to holding. Tight, your hips brush scars I count to mark
our nights: strings that rip and tug a common cusp of stars in sync--a land of coward souls. Constant, baffling
days, stark with scant account, you vow to play with dust and dawn among our twilight god--our thanks
for artistry. I pray without your words-- with gravity, bowing to my faith and asking you, again, to st
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Clearfield Review: Prose, Poetry, Art.
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