my son tells me that when I run out of ideas
to write about love –
and if I’ve written about love before
it should be easy –
I suppose it should –
but it rarely is.
some of the hardest poems I’ve written
were about love –
filial love, sexual love, bonded love,
platonic love, Greek love,
love of self or of youth, of beauty
of women or men
woman or man.
all I ever write about is love
in one form or another
and sometimes, I guess,
it is easy.
though you would never know it.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 
say something