The dreams of the night,
alive in the cold spaces
between us, fill the unknown
holes that have grown,
and will continue to.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

In May, the fog slips
Into the city nestling
Against glass and steel
I am perched at the bar and
Swim in music and murmurs
The dreams of the night,
alive in the cold spaces
between us, fill the unknown
holes that have grown,
and will continue to.