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from The Samurai Poems
after a series of drawings by Manuel Fuentes

We make a cradle of our bodies
lying in each other's lap
rocking. The small waves barely hum
against the struts of the old pier.
It's no accident
we've chosen this high place
where the sounds of the gulls ripen
and the wind rests easily at sunset.
At night we can be invisible
the only hint of our presence
your raised breast glowing in my hand
your thighs hugging
my cock into you.
We hold our breath just
for a second
listen for the kiss
of the huge goldfish
who've begun to move toward us
over the moss-covered stones.


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By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour
The Man With His Back To The Room
Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories
Homage to a Widow
It's Only TV
Improvisations - Chapbook
After Goya
Improvisations - From Contemporary Music
Mustering What's Left