How green, as ever...
a child lifted, to
place a star on a
willing tree.
Just by looking--
up they go...
they know.

The coffered ceilings
of cathedrals hum...
their octagonal scenes
are dreams of extracted
nectar.
I'm reminded of a dead
bee I parted from a
flower...it was already
so much more the bee,
so much more the flower.
Its non-doership loved
to death its doing.

A music that tears
itself from harmony...
a candle flame begging a
a pair of lips, should they
couple...how exquisite
the tears.

Blessings should
be counted, as one
would the sun
framed in a window...
blinded with gratitude.
As if what was received
was already given.

Could it be other than as it is?
As you would have it, is how you'll
have it.
The very form of your have, and have not...split down prayerful hands.
The opening and closing of eyes survived by the peregrination of a
body...as you would have it, as you'll have it.
A remembrance undone with every blessed motion...cautioning the mind not to keep pace, not to intellectualize such a motioning.
Alas, it would be difficult to intellectualize the anatomical function of the body twenty-four hours a day...would it not?
Grace set against its only backdrop...
a haiku that refuses the trappings of a novel, as you would have it...
is how you'll have it.

Truth enamored of itself...based upon
the forever following.
Flow's entrails--the
seven circuit labyrinth pends the
recollection that yielded it.
Thus, the unsound voice pouring
voicelessness.
Minotaur's digestive sound bite.
Where Once, as only Once allotted
the victor of Truth.
As told, as held...now confounds
with a self-fabricating prophesier,
profaning all telling.
Disconsolate swipes of emotion
make and remake the barren.
Pray tell the lessening visage of thee,
where by and by shall deem thee
bygone.

Rocking in place,
narrowly missed
by the widest way...
this strange fire
that cultures
its angelic coop.
Their claustrophobic
allegiance to a breaking
heart.