I feel like it’s fairly obvious that I’m obsessed with love…
love is so slow, it snails
til it can march, til it can spring.
the sky flings endless cloudscapes
under which birds still sing.
another word for chord is
context, notes worth fingering.
quarter century on and still
ever onward, two or one,
pentacled knight and king.
another word for love is
patience, green sprout uncoiling.