A collection of my poems, both old and new.
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"Her Hair"
"My hair," she said,
"I leave it everywhere I go,"
long black tendrils,
infinite cylinders of cells
pushed through the perforations
of her scalp like
dreams.
I find them about the house,
poised like panthers
in the sun,
languishing like black lilies
upon my pillowcase,
stitching up
the thin spots of my socks.
"Don't go," I say.
"Your hair seems
happy here."
[first published in New Bard Press, Drive, 2004]
˗ˏˋ・。☆.・゜✭・. AUTHOR'S NOTES ✫・゜・。.・。. ✭
What's a poetry book without a few love poems? This is one of the first poems I wrote to the wonderful, inspiring, magical woman who, years later, would finally agree to marry me. I've written other poems to other girlfriends in their day but these? These ones were different. The heart knows its muse and there comes a point where a poet just needs to trust and surrender. Fully, blindly, madly, and with pen in hand.
