The Wabi-Sabi Writer

The traveller has my rabbit skinVelvet smooth desire widenssinks deepin the gapeCraving my indifferent fingertipsseekthe back of my neckI shouldn’t explore this luscious terrain on a slow Sunday afternoon sitting alone in an empty cafeAm I seenas I run my fingers acrossmy wristsbegging loudlyfor a tender grazing of teethso much of meuntouched for yearsI have let things gofleshfullyet unfulfilledby the ravishingthe knowingof my rabbit...

Fill the long cracksmade wise waitingfor the rightdirectionDecisions hangslack souringin the turbid bellyof balanceIt is timeto catcha glancea toe-holda break fall overthe fucking high no...