I listened to a man who was terminally sick,
And he wanted to talk politics.
But I was focused on the stars
And how they'd fall like grains of sand;
And then I heard the woeful wind,
Plaintiff as this breathless man.
And I was sad
That the stars did not fall
To mark the passing of our time,
For it has no real face and hands,
Or wings to fly on, or legs to run.
Yet rushes at us like politicians;
Perhaps that's what he said.

I blocked the sunlight,
The wall pasted an outline
copy of me.

The sensation of
Your hand in mine makes me feel
Like it is all right.

the blue of ocean
did meet with the blue of sky
on the horizon

was as if the two
hues of blue were the one shade
in that far off line

I deliberate.
I contemplate.
I procrastinate.

Then I write in ink...

In the hopes
of capturing
all that swims unruly
and speaks in runes.

Oscar,  the poor gay and courageous pioneer
  the English Court was cruel to him beyond measure
  if only he had lived during our enlightened era
  he would be held as the Gay Movement's greatest treasure!