an old bus I miss sometimes resinous pine, the smell of a leather jacket— I'd walk in the rain in search of a sandalwood scent coming back and shedding wet clothes I find I've carried it through the streets Its votive trace lingers on fingertips [LAG-other-response url=" https://www.vianegativa.us/2021/07/desire/" title="Via Negativa: Desire"]
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.