As you lift the handle
There will be several ghosts of sentiment,
offerings derived as question.
This life, an emptiness discerned; we will spurn with kisses from the very thing touched,
Yearned for in its absence.
Still to stale
Sift, entangled. tracing neglect sought, soon satiated.
Fennel and persimmon grow, caused an absinth of elements when we pass that home past October, there to bide and breathe.
Walking through gates
a ride is riddled with forcible consideration.
O to be natural for the first time in a while,
Deepest oil paint rust on brush, a line of leering birds winding shapeless to convex captured only in memory.
This inner tension, the image scatters as mind
careening in rotation,
Shutter of breath
Shutter of breath.
PROSPEROUS THOUGHT.
There are old pages of cursive curses, coming at once, a cacophony in myth or test.
Trapped mentors of approval make faces in the wings, the message; they will resent soon after.
I am laughing with him
These old pages are furled to connection’s consolation, life by random gasps’ of wind, shape moving into a continuous estrangement . then dulled to a slight gentle extension, Careening in rotation
Shutter of breath
N.A.R 2000