dear paul

tonight, more than anything, i long to dance with you to be embraced by your lean, long arms like a cluster of young fruit growing up within the embrace of the blueberry branches in july

when we dance your body is like a rocking chair sturdy, and swaying with the music i sink into your frame same as i would when i was a tired child nuzzling into the embrace of the foregone wooden rockers that adorned my great grandmother's front porch

i yearn to hear the creaks of your soft wooden voice wafting above my hair as i twirl 'round you

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once your hands made soft clay out of the muscles of my neck the ancient place where i hold ten-year tension muddy muscles melt under your hands like rain who taught you that kind of compassion? and h

all we are is words on paper dreams in slumber and dreams in daylight the chances that you could also be writing me from across the globe are thin as this here paper why do i write to you? why does yo