When the elephant's-ear in the park
Shrivelled in frost,
And the leaves on the paths
Ran like rats,
Your lamp-light fell
On shining pillows,
Of sea-shades and sky-shades,
Like umbrellas in Java.

A monk sips morning tea,
it's quiet,
    the chrysanthemum's flowering.

let the storm soar
to the highest destination
the sky still stands above
let the waves roll
in its maddest fury
the fishes still have a place
"Run waves, run to the shore,
wash it off, swallow the land"
but remember beneath you lies the land
let the storm come against the boat,
but am in a boat that the storm knows

i have known and seen the storm
the storms of life
the storms life brings,
the storms that stand between us and our wants
the storm of No and rejection
but i remain calm like the fury of the storm
for what is see,
Is a storm in a tea cup.

my, body, is, dead.


legs; mechanical and rusted
money is spent.
head is impaired

porch sunrise,
deep conversation,
walks across town early in the mornin'

touch my hand,
touch my hand,
all day long (or
perhaps all night)
let me smell your sweet
perfume,
and i will not request
the taste of your
lips,
lady, oh, those lips
touch my hand...

I am,
however, no hero,
just a lowly poet
in the always
and forever
quest for the pursuit of
truth...

i want you if
even for the
shortest moment
of time
even if knowing
our hellos
will also be
goodbye.

i want
you

to hold me.

savage, heart
so hurt
and empty
blackened pools of
pain, not envy
given into sleepless nights,
and pain-filled days,
where nothing's real,
where nothing's right.

this is the way it is,
the way it seems to
be
now i peer into a
dusty mirror
seeing little left of me.

i love you (when you're)  rambling
i want to hear what you say after work
i want your face in my hands
i want you in my studio with a glass of wine
(telling me things)
i want
you.

On the streets of heat and movement
lie the evidence of pain,
she walks, he talks, the children run
throughout the burning rain.

I can smell the smoke of lifelessness
along the living death,
we talk, they walk, the sirens wail
today may rob our breath.

In the rooms of waste and apathy,
sit silent the insane,
she writes, he writes, the samll hand ticks
the hours fast away...

it's a
tear-
drop
this time

you
can't have it,
it's
all mine

not
many left,
but you'll
be fine.

tear-
drop
all gone,
now dry...

i may never
see you
or be
with you,
i
will always
love you.

never forget that.

...i shall affix a sweet
red hibiscus
to you hair.
i shall live in the petals,
always near,
you
until the leaf doth wilt,
then live in
your heart
forever still.