empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper...
a dew glitter, frozen dawn, the bird flies.
waving branches, a single tree, so unclear,
empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper...
shattered threshold, rendered abyss, the skies,
blind hands, trembling flame, the river dries.
empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper...
a dew glitter, frozen dawn, the bird flies.

a sullen blue monday
can be a lovely green haven
when new profound thoughts sprout
and we know then that heaven is a state
induced by the euphoria and warmth
radiated by the creative hub on the hearth
that incubates our long-suffering dreams
let us go forward then, today a mess of hopes
and tomorrow couch potatoes venture out

when the rain calls
this smitten heart falls
and there are heavy showers
in its pensive chambers
torrid feelings are brewed
as the day's fare is stewed
raucous are the thunderclaps
across a grieving heart
that feasts upon the sad cuisine
spewed forth by vindictive life
and abetted by an ailing soul
this song will never end
and the tears will never stop
for it keeps raining in my heart

mouth
  minty and fresh
     neck fragrant
           like
lavender in season
         navel
poesy of surprises
    cascading
        gently
into the valley below
where her tulips are
       a bulbous
       perennial
rain forest of ecstasy
profusion and fruition
    after the peak
        later
    his raisiny eyes
and smashed heart
        drool
   at the sight
        of
        her
lilies in the valley