Before Leda was Greek, She was Irish The history of love started with pigtails, freckles and green eyes. Before man’s concern with the tragedy of clocks, down comforters and four hundred thread count sheets of Egyptian cotton dyed straw yellow. Before sky had the name blue, before chemistry, before, before… Love shamelessly danced naked on …

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Speechless Words need to be said yet since birth I have had a dog’s collar wound tight around my neck, choking each syllable into a cough, sigh or gasp unable to say the word – love. Thus my churning intestines are tightly bound round, twisting my innards out, where there were no words, only sighs, …

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This Ugly Thing There is this ugly old dried stinky peat thing I love about me. When crossed, my eyes will toss you into a frozen pond in the frozen tundra and keep your head frozen in the freezing water for a minute, a day, a month, a year or til’ you turn blue with …

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Longing at three I don’t expect you In the morning. Ah, at three, when you pick up Your son from the school Across the street My longing heart Prays for a simple glimpse of you. © SB Joy, 2022 Heart longings, divorcees, MM. This happened many years ago, best that nothing became of it? Best …

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After Life After god walked away We stopped killing each other. We no longer hid behind thick hanging tapestries full of archaic blood stained theologies. We adorned ourselves with tie-dye kilts, dresses, skirts and shirts. We made love under southern black walnut trees and thundering skies while we worshipped the being of each other. © …

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