a cocoon of silk
nights are heavy but fertile
from which the sun rises

Afraid of the dark
And even my
Own shadow
Dogs that bite
Bees that sting
Being rejected
Again and again
Afraid of the cold
And even the rain
Afraid afraid  
Afraid

With a hint of death
mingling in the air,
the nocturnal snapdragon is
digging wells,
not just for water,
but also as final resting
places for friends back home,
in the garden,
deep within the soil.

Callous hands and feet
speak of insufficiency
and misery under the sun,
the one lone solace comes
with night,
and the partaking of
her body's delicacies,
bringing her innumerably
to the helve,
as she sings heavenly things
about the architecture
we creatures fall
so easily from.

Somedays, I long to confess
sensations from my heart
without wearing the day's addiction
to restrictions, permitting unlicensed
syllables to samba indelicately -
without even a blush,
passionate imagery sheds
her workday facade
as I pour her slender physique freely
within the hourglass
of an unrepressed burgundy

Birth is conceived.

But life is inconceivable !

Have you ever been to Santorini
on a boat
when you were young
and blond
and gorgeous
and free?
Have you ever been to Santorini
when life lay before you
like a joke
a challenge
a high
Have you ever been to Santorini
when the sun is so high
you feel you could die
If you’ve never been to Santorini
you don’t know me
but  trust me
just give it a try!