What a discovery
In between
Those yellowy perfumed pages
Of Tom Sawyer.
Your two-dimensional form undeterred
From your first installment of life
Some thirty odd years ago.
Immortal shell, you
Unlike your wind torn
Finally winter buried friends
Now of new purpose - As ornament,
As fossil, own a new beauty.
I dare not peel your fragility,
Your thin, dried silk like skin.
The new epoch which has now found you,
Daisy and Forget-me-not entwined
In still-life, frozen, embraced;
I gently close the book, closing
Your new chapter against the page
Leaving you for the next to discover.

Woodbine spillage
Into overgrown narrows
Butterfly wings unfold to rest,

Raw essence in parallel pattern
Settling on summer's searing breast,

Bare flesh
and forget-me-not promise
Always remembered and kept.

Bathe all past regret
Like Baptism - Delivering
Guilt, sin; lament.
Drift the wandering tides of trust
This new day will surely serve.
Yesterday and every yesterday
Knowingly can never be changed -
Awake fresh, anew each day
As if you've never woken before, shaking
The dark history from your hair.

Greying sky
Fettered by quivering, clouded seas.
Moon ripening bright
Like soft steel, soft
As a riverbank's close currents
Awash with arctic blues;
Winter's conception - ice
Throughout summer
A cool breath dissipating
Like a fading memory,
Weightless, humble element,
Polished, unabashed,
Windowless and bright.
Dull reflections glisten
Under strokes of evening sun;
With laughter
And gifts of love.

My words are merely insects
Chewing at the pulp
                look at the last one

It's ******* the fu.llstop

A proverbial panic
As the early worm escapes.

The humming sun
Silvers a bush
       And blinds two birds:

A gambler prospers.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.