Survivor of many lifetimes, writer, cat-mother, sensualist, and anarchist in my soul.
When last wallowing in unrequited lust, I got my wish and after all the words and wasted poetry, emotions bubbling and the need to sit on ice, it was not all that. Okay, but disappointing. There was no electricity. No sense of…
Blood: A List
Blood on the floor of the school library
Blood in the class room
Blood in the cafeteria
Blood in the post office
Blood on the battlefield
Where have all the years run away to?
Seems like I was just sitting under a tree, fifteen, a virgin delicate child
Hoping Paul McCartney would come whisk me away