White crane fishing trackside for
Vestiges of nourishment from
Newark muck and Secaucus slush:
            Be aware;
Three-eyed tadpoles live in these waters,
Breeding alongside rotting corpses--
Mob jobs gone wrong and various
Plastic garbage.

Screeching silence whispering
Truths your lips won't form
Letters from shapes to messages
Unsent piled high under the desk
Where secrets are swept, clean
Unseen by judging eyes
Stamped with footprints,
Soles ***** from creeping in beds
Of flowers in gardens your feet
Should never have sought
Sowing seeds you can't water.

She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry

She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred

She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love

She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity

She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure

She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion

She exists harmoniously in my mind