By Stuart Whitley | Bio
the man with the unpressed suit and upraised arms
speaking in monotone, knows exits and oxygen masks
the woman in the seat beside me moulds latex
into monsters’ heads for movies, and wonders
if she has time for a Harvey’s hamburger, loaded,
before her bags arrive on the carousel
do these people have wisdom?
five miles below, a man scratches earth from dinosaur bones
and another scutters down darkened lanes breaking
People are my everything,
Senses reaching out, embracing someone.
Wanting to touch and be touched—to delight
In each small gesture and utterance—
Finding wonder in soft words
And love in my heart
I remember loving.
Never tasting the Sweet fragrance
of a soft belly in the Way I do now—
Feeling each centimeter of skin—
Aging fingers still capable and Tender
caressing each other until we shudder—
in sublime delight
I am more romantic now.
Vulnerable and open—
accepting love
without
the pulverizing, unrelenting surf far below raven’s wings
is a place where the earth, sky and sea converge
each striving for supremacy, now as at the beginning of the world
the ocean is implacable, runnelled by wind and current, its
waves roiled by streaming breakers falling upon themselves
in trembling echoes of the otherwise silent voice of Creator
the air’s rent with spindrift, ragged clouds frown
on the gloomy face of tatsaogitl, the west wind
at the foam-flecked edge of this creeping pandemonium
By Shae Hadden
Bio