As Long As An Angel Is Not

I Have No Name For What Circles So Perfectly.

Poems Reach Up Like Spindrift And The Edge Of Driftwood Along The Beach, Wanting! They Derive From A Slow And Powerful Root That We Can’t See. Stop The Words Now. Open The Window In The Center Of Your Chest, And Let The Spirits Fly In And Out.

Roar, Lion Of The Heart, And Tear Me Open!

For The Thirst To Possess Your Love, Is Worth My Blood A Hundred Times.

A True Lover Is Proved Such By His Pain Of Heart! No Sickness Is There Like Sickness Of Heart!!!