My grandmother came from a family of girls lending beauty and eloquence to the somber Texas plains Georgia people headed westward after the Civil War…
There she was appearing again standing in the half-light the moon in her hand. Honeysuckle watfting intense white in the night. Dreams speak of dragons…
If I fell through a wormhole I would land outside her window in midsummer breathe the smell of pomegranates ready for picking on that lopsided…
We dance an uneven tango upon stardust smothering an unstable floor fallen from a frame of broken dreams preferring to meld into the solace of…