Broken shards of pottery falling down a chasm.

Forgive my lack of segue,
I think I'm having a brain spasm.

Ceramic rain on a day like this,
and now I'm missing my umbrella.

The funky fact remains that I'm still one fragile kind of fella.

just visiting
   every once in the while
                this exotic place
where dreams take shape
again

along treelines
   very near the coastal plains
                a time once where ships
had sails and lives were
placed

by visionaires
   painting psalms as true stories
               and dreams as real life
morals with plans to make
more

in the future
    as sticks and sands and
             and waders in the blue surf
lapping at ankles call the
shore

home as the sailor seeks
      his love when the sails have folded
              the salt washed in fresh waters
again a sip of barley
seek

amore'

it's all in the gnomes on your lawn
that draws me baby
not your curves
not those curls on your naked shoulder
or your poems
not the way you slide up to me
like some kind of fine woman
just those gnomes
I like your gnomes
baby