Equilibrium, the flow of current moves against air.
Prolongation of sound resonates, and it speaks of unearthly escapes.

Leaking pipes in a seascape painting scrape off old oil;
A wall revealed, it hides behind the canvas.

This scene is spectral, and soundscapes release chants;
On and on and on,
On and on and on,
Freedom is your choice,
And we’ll always have
Daybreak daydreams, to keep demons away.

Clear day—
Lavendar meadow stretches for miles.
Partly cloudy, no chance of rain.
The sun peaks out just enough
To light a field of golden grain.
I’m comfortable here,
In a summer dress,
Blanket on the ground,
Picnic set;
I look around,
And there you are,
Walking towards me
On this dreamlike day.

Chocolate & Hazelnut
Blended smooth as butter—
To delight taste buds,
Like no other.
Covering
Savory, Crisp
Saltine.
Just one more,
Please.

You give me simple pleasure,
As I bite into your inner layer.
I love you in the morning
In between a bagel,
Sometimes with bacon.

In the afternoon,
By a salad’s side you sit,
With my favorite edibles-
Arugula, red peppers, fresh peas,
Black and green olives,
Topped with chicken, cheese,
Sesame vinaigrette, and,
A few croutons for crunch.

You are an Egg, but so much more.

The texture and depth of your yolk,
Sublime and sumptuous;
Your outside solid, yet undefined;
Balancing textures with what’s inside.

Egg,
You are truly
Divine.

Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable
essences,
sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree's yellow
emerges,
the lemons
move down
from the tree's planetarium

Delicate merchandise!
The harbors are big with it-
bazaars
for the light and the
barbarous gold.
We open
the halves
of a miracle,
and a clotting of acids
brims
into the starry
divisions:
creation's
original juices,
irreducible, changeless,
alive:
so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades.

So, while the hand
holds the cut of the lemon,
half a world
on a trencher,
the gold of the universe
wells
to your touch:
a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a ******
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet.