Love is

I remind you Allen Ginsberg, near the end, said I was a god of storm.

Love is more, more or less
Love is
Love is a beast from the depths, risen
Love is a contest you hope to win by entering 10,000 times
Love is a curse, bestowed on mankind by Eros; not knowing it’s a curse is part of the curse
Love is a grandiose statement; oversell
Love is a sad eye dog in an alley; no one wants that painting anymore
Love is a virus which cannot be inoculated against
All you can do is wash your hands a lot. Sweat it out. Quarantine.
Love is an illusion caused by delirium
Love is blind; it is a guide dog who is prone to licking
Love is frequently taken aback
Love is just something people say
Love is lost, possibly in the couch cushions.
Love is sold so often it loses value
Love is something I left somewhere and now cannot find
Love is something that goes down the drain; but, if it’s heavy enough, it gets caught in the trap
Love is something that will make you strong – if it doesn’t kill you
Love is something which, when given, is often not returned
Love is the journey not the destination
Love is something you order in a restaurant and when it comes does not look as you pictured it
Love is something you read about in a disreputable publication
Love is sticking your finger into the hole in my heart; stopping the leak
Love is tactile, making it hard to discern from a distance
Love is the abandonment of all other options; for better or worse
Love is the wanted sign at the post
Love is the writing on the wall, but it’s written in the wrong language, and no one can understand
Love is.