Category Archives: 1986

Rain gods

Posted on April 13, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

Spring is the oldest season and I celebrate as rain beads silver on my lids and lashes (this is the oldest dance) water shines in tangled hair wind caresses my naked face this April afternoon

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for beauty’s sake

Posted on April 13, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

A flowershop rosebud opened too soon your petals crumble to ash in my palm traces of gray I carelessly brush from my fingertips

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I tire of the virgins (who still reads this stuff anyway?)

Posted on April 13, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

I tire of the virgins that tremble on covers of dime and drug store novels whose honor carefully guarded flutters between thighs so eager to part & the heroes sickeningly predictable bore with sardonic stares & kisses that bruise the … Continue reading →

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