"The thought of your body breaks me."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Texarkana
Then the gun men come and then
The one in blond fox
Clutching the Book of Ruin
In his clean, white hands.
From the barn I could see the star
Of his horse as it galloped toward us.
In the end, there was nothing
We could do.
Just watch as an ocean of bloodhounds
Flood down the side of the mountain.
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Ariadne, Waiting
This is how I was found.
Foxed under in nothing, strewn bare in cinquefoil,
Torn loose of the earth, chanting,
The thought of your body breaks me.
Disquieted child, I fall under spells.
Soon, I will receive you, lie with you,
Mend your salt-stung hands.
When the ocean, envious of your leaving,
Moans to the boats and anchors,
We will dream the coming armada,
A covey of dark birds, the deep asunder--
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