Two PoemsHenry Mariachi
Love Poem #17
The gods pass a halo about as if a game of basketball.
I fell asleep and they changed the rules.
As the game neared complete they settled on a darkness in the middle of a pond.
From which we still drink. Love Poem
I am asleep like a tattoo. A kiln that cannot kiss the clay.
1996 © 2011
