Love is Cultivated

Love is not remuneration
Earned by sweat and toil.
Love is flowers in the garden
Tended in rich soil.

One More Time

An Erotic Poem

I know,
You’ve said it;
So many times.

Sylvia’s father says:

O! daughter dear, on this mid-western afternoon,
when I can see all the way to Sacramento, I cry
for you, Ariel-blue, in…