2002-03-03 - 12:28 a.m.

if i could speak in a language
that didn�t exist
make porridge in bowls
of baked clay
in my nest.

squeezing redberries
all over my lip
staining my fingers
drinking it thick

cider syrupy sweet
inebriate
and hold my hand
sleep with me
up high
in our
tree

i will make a place
quiet
and peaceful
tranquil
and wonderful

baah