A river of love flows
out of my heart
non-stop. And another out of yours.
Our torrential flood
flows into the frail human desert
willing to sustain life in abundance and
the thirst for keeps.
Yet here is sand,
And elusive aboriginal arts aside,
I see no silk and spice in caravan,
no oasis, beyond the slippery banks
of this lonely violent flood.
February 9, 1999