46 This sound has to last long until my breath is over. This color should be bright to make it hard to look. This taste has to remain when everything is swallowed. This smell should force me to inhale without a move. This touch has to be smooth until my fingers tremble. This day should linger, longing, to become a night. This night should lighten up on carousels in blending The light and dark, in swirl, with me and you inside.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems