Lately, it's as if feathers
are freer than wings,
and flight is more than
airy height.
It feels more like the
perfect confidence of
life, asking death if it
would die for it.
Death asking life if it
would live for it.
Feathers seem to gather
for wings of that magnitude,
beating through the ground
as much as the sky.

Your gilded paces
in darkness, wore
like diamond necklaces
heaped round a dead
queen.

freshly minted leaves
cognizing warmth as
earthen birthmarks
of shade.

who's ready to float on
slideshows of deepening
color?
whose ready to feel what
that might mean this year?

crowns have been placed
amidst the tangled outreach
of boughs.
beauty is an awesome
responsibility.
few are dying of.

So here's the mature
expression of a catch
flopping on deck.
Who could bear the
promise of more, from
where this one came?
Grin, multitudinous and
mawkish--an ungraspable
slick silver verse stuck to
puckering lips.
A face grown flat, by roles
played in common waves,
eyes placed for scanning
both sides of the sea.
You've even succeeded in
making Jesus seem fishy.

once there's ash
what's left to split
in twain?
hands will not doubt
what's too late for
giving.
waste is the ruddied
stock footage of a
setting sun.
we will be forced to
watch.
begging to give with
both hands.

morning lay like totaled
freedom, wish i could sew
its breeze to my chest and
wear it as a name tag.
sleep was beyond the cost
of damages.
there's a week to work through,
and today is another day?
what is it to forget to blink,
in a bypass of mind, a trickle
of drool at the side of the mouth?
how optical can an illusion get
while in daily activity?
another glug of coffee fails to
enrich the details, the nervous
system blinkers.
the capacity for joy, is proportional
to that of sorrow...every weekend
forgoes that wisdom.
be it chock-full of crazy.
it's the only way.

Where others beat--
you touch...
a beautiful order.
Put in motion
when neither you,
nor I were looking.
We accused one other
of being godlike at the
same time.
As all is well remained
in the present tense, till
further notice went
unnoticed.
Some call it peace.