ride the wind…
The wheat feels the shucking of its chaff as puffs of pleasure shoot and sprinkle into wild air. Rub. A sigh slides by.
We ride with abandon, parting paths with whetted tips and slickened lips. We ride.
Harvest the secrets of my heart, wrap them inside words that feel like song. See me as I am: wanton with wanting you.
manifesto…
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
— Wendell Berry —
atlas in my lap…
