I found myself
Staring into an ancient rythym
The mustang narrowed its eyes within my ribs and pounded on.

Waves of machine thunder
Broke against my mind,
Washed away with my consciousness,
And played there
Like spent dandelions upon an autumn breeze.

In that maelstrom of indigos and ether, lightening split the void
And I just fell...
My layers and lies, suddenly too thin to keep,
Fell away exposing the wilds of my dreams. Refracting my every wonder unto the waters of time that spilled there in eternal complexity.

And then?  she simply blinked.

hurriedly speaks rain,
sounds like a foreign toungue,
in distant night land!

My waking time
in the narrowest part of the creek
chases spots in the shadows
a streak between bushes
thirsty tongue lapping green opal
cautious cotton on the fallen leaves
the priceless prowler in the morn mist
or in the dusk
the graceful glory
in the hinterland of my heart.

(Sonnet)

In my working days world,
Outside little birdies do swirl,

With wings and songs saying,
Wee birds in trees are playing,

But my blue drab or grey suit,
That chains me to my roots,

With only windows to imagine
A world so colourful, tangible,

Is shroud, only wrap of clothes,
Yet little birds, so downy robed,

And within my comely, demise,
See how brightly birdies do fly,

As I shudder, muted, wintering,
O how wee birdies can sing.
.