An elegant attraction
for a poet’s distinctive eye.
Fermented fire, lay dormant.
Until we germinated new patterns.
I called it ‘Art’.
You called it ‘Love and Sex’,
bundled in two island dreams.
Both are enough for me.
On a surreal summer evening
An elegant attraction
for a poet’s distinctive eye.
Fermented fire, lay dormant.
Until we germinated new patterns.
I called it ‘Art’.
You called it ‘Love and Sex’,
bundled in two island dreams.
Both are enough for me.
A Wandering Poet 