The past is never dead. It isn’t even past.
—William Faulkner
Side warm against mine in frost-time
Chest my cheek rests upon, shield-broad, steel-ribbed
Arms around me, oak-strong, sun-warm
Flanks arrow-straight, the downward highroad
Slow honeyed flare of desire spiraling round us
Love, and peace within it:
We are gathered in like grain,
Our harvest each other
—PKM, 1997
I know you
I know you
You are Valor & Desire
—JDM, 1970
© Patricia Morrison, 1970, 1997, 2011
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