painting by Willem de Kooning, Pink Angels Hair gleaming against her neck she sits poised with strength it flows out from her right shoulder rides down the curves of her…
but if a living dance upon dead minds why,it is love;but at the earliest spear of sun perfectly should disappear moon’s utmost magic,or stones speak or one name control…
opens your mind to my mind she opens her mouth to share the memories of the past i listen i open i close i once again open hearing not just…
Lights in the Hand 