Author Archives: Roman

Enter, blight, 
my desert heart
is ready to dry 
to you. 

May we 
be friends 
in April
and bitter
December,

on purple 
lively dew
as well as 
soporific dust.

We will each
be carrion
to the other:

you feast on my will,
I rest my parts
as they come apart
in your cactus hands.