Cove/Silence

Editor back-issues, poetry

Cove Where the Black rock Is soaked In silver spray, Moonlit   My guttural baritones Are Bowed strings of longing   Come in to my cove, My black wings Encircling   I cannot Promise A halo   But you and I, we Could circle the fire   Let the howl Of the wild Rip the skin From the waters  …

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