Reversed , some days /
daunting dawn, endless dusk groaned
soul in hand / small move where the roots are eager to grow

Hunger: looking for meaning
/ peeling away what’s torturing the
skin of longing

What’s sufficient when the comb is missing its teeth?

To steer clear from what’s only there to fill the lonewolf’s temporary time

On anotherness, these words are devoted /
lit each day & night / for the beloved to know wanting is still inflamed

Windflower: who hides her depth when in love / to utter none is to be at the safe side

but the unshowing is exposing itself / the soul is too generous with mysticism attached to its light-gown / all untimid, the form of intimacy amidst the language of the heart

Where is the next step to cast the net
of seeing the...