The night is a beautiful night––
I let go of yr hands as
you cross the room toward
the light
my face is flush and wild with flowers
I'm drunk on the brain like a
poem in a new used book
and before morning I'll be
swollen with love
I want to give someone
a recommendation for a volcano
but I've never been
to the islands
--
Generations of Color
there I am and here we are
generations of color
might ween us
and like all mustered
feminine power
and all we have to do is
destroy the legacy of
legacies
until then I might
be nowhere with you
you can have whiskey and
Portuguese donuts––
malasadas
and the body is still here
loose, whip-like,
and itching with the new
generational love drive––
not death––
it's own thing
