Intro.. ...Back Draw... ..Along Poems.. ...More He told me about Earth: about our home: that he would like to look at the stars from there one day - He couldn't peel an orange: so I started it with my teeth: but he didn't want it. His mouth tilted him towards me. It burns. Since then: his gaze has been rocking my hips: it's making me ripple: I feel my center - waves from where they ovulate. The plants don't need me anymore. Why does it burn? Tomorrow will be the baptism of a new atmosphere. People will blow into dandelions and into the open palm: on which they had previously placed their lips: I am supposed to release a blackbird into the air. I left you a gift at our place: wait until the leaves fall.