Who cares if they watch our love?
— Fact they rather'd see:
It matters not in this cove,
In this sprawl of love and sweep:

Re-lose those eyes in this rime,
Then folds will lay and swap:
Then pink and red would stain our skin,
And fight we would to stay on top:

And whites of eyes will sil'ly appear,
Too busy we are enveloped in we:
In all this thing of our love,
Of kiss, and rush, and kiss, and flee.

— White leopard; gold angel speaks
In soft, her mildew-honey tune:
And up upon that gorgeous face,
A sunny clime of hair she blew:

Sneering lips, and men wonder why
At each moment she pounce' in wait:
Dare not the eyes that which she bore,
Those black-beetled minds oft' elate.

And peach-moon skin still catches eyes
Of mine, which cannot fend— and yet,
In all known moments when she sighs
They bathe a room in sunny rend.

And ne'er forget will I that common gleam,
— That gold-white leopard I rarely see.

Was it not yesterday when we fell in love?
Was it not that night in summer just me and you?
Oh dear, have I reclaim'd my lost lover-bug?
Another poem for my dear sweet you:
Miss Lover Lady, where travels you now?
And what woman or man have you embold'?
And brown hair, so beautifully brown,
A brown that seeps into parts of my soul:
Ah, everything! Everything that is there
In the world will match not up with your eyes:
And Lady, when great universes stare
They too would get lost where the green flares lie.
But gone Lady is, by morrows of time;
And falls lover's truth withal lover's rhyme.

But she was my lover,
For a moment's time:

Like a dream no other,
In her dreamy eyes.

Her hair so suede brown,
Like sweet chocolate to the air;

Her shirt an lion's gown,
With eyes that cradle everywhere.

Her lips so refined,
As if furnaces her soul from meld:

And remention must her eyes—
Which capture god like citadel.

Oh but when she trots away,
My sadness comes to me,

My heart broken at queens' bay
Where my lover walks away.

By midnight shine of streetlight glow,
On streetlight road fell citrus snow:
The chalky streams and powdered tides;
The tangy shores now come alive:
And to ignite the ember'd brook,
A cloudless clime so tender hook'd.

The night of sweet persimmon air,
Of quiet trees in quiet flare,
Instead of cold, white, winter blaze
My sleepless night soak'd auburn haze;
And sleep made be the dreamy flight,
The streetlight road ran just alike.

And this for me the lunar blue?
Some felon crime of citrine hues:
A nameless joy abstracts the heart,
Serene it is and set apart;
On streetlight road I met a truth:
And seamless be its natured proof.

She has crescent eyes, like the moon
And ocean hair, like rays of sun:
And when she talks, she talks with you -
Like windy rain that skies sway from:

Her shoes dress red, like her lips
All filled with roses and more red,
Her teeth are white as eyes stay lit;
And when she smiles I smile ahead:

Cherry roses, the cheeks are warm
Budding flower, eye creases bloom:
Happy lover, my heart flares fire
Love fills your eyes, eyes fill my room!

I sit alone in cold wind breeze
At night some time out night air,
And cold wind finds my face homely
And light-***** shine their brightest blare

I'll see some hands that tread alone
All through night they sit alone
Somewhere the sun creeps up on me
But then the moon reminds my soul:

I walk alone along the sky
Sometimes I float and touch too high,
And then I float back down my keep
And felt as once I'd never been.

A fire lion lays on the rich hue grass,
Sitting there by the bough of tree:
And sun shine falls for her flaméd tress
And wears each flame on her skin-seam:

While tempted I am to approach this beast,
Who sits there smelting shades o' skin,
The eyes of hers are like the very leaf -
So swift and keen and fell within:

And so I watch from a great distant height,
And so she be a star in grass not red,
With mane that on her lion could light
A spark or flame of emberness.

Blissful,
   Blissful,
      Blissful,
         Fall the starry skies:
      And the clouds that chime above
      In night time do the otters cry
         And wolf-men shout beside the dove:
      
      Angels sing in pockets queer,
         Fairies dance along the spark,
      Boughs of faces soon appear
         As branches watch throughout the start:
      
      Owls sing as crickets please,
         The moon lifts her vision for the sky,
      Blissful,
         Blissful,
            Blissful,
               Fall the starry spheres:
            For every moment of the night.

A team of four - or more than two
Tappy children waddle by -
To see the lake - with a loon, with
Their mother - looking nigh:

Their funny games, which all they play
Throughout the night of orange suns;
Of tannéd eyes the streetlights flay
And run on home would all of them:

Then father comes and takes away
To other places in a night;
All gone the children, gone today -
Perhaps they'll come another time.

I took the stars, plucked one by one
And gave to you, but all in vain:
I blew in storms to block the sun;
The bane of time now child’s proclaim:
The spin of earth, too fast for fun,
Oh poor woman, do you hide pain?

Is it behind your summer eyes?
Perhaps beneath that honey hair,
Or creeps between those pleasant sighs
Which sound so smoothly through the air?
Or stuffed below witty replies
That come by the night without care?

O such beauty! She’s no evil:
Laugh too innocent, heart too pure,
A walk so calm impatience boils
Under her seductive nature.
Rapture in my love’s perfect coil!
Alas, she is all, all is sure.

And what you plan to do,
Green plant that sit in room?

Where thinks could be your dreams?
Or do you even dream at all?
What sunsets could you see?
Or swimming shore above?

And question me your roots,
In dirt that act like boots:

Are tickled they like hell?
In brown and white soil?
Can itchy get your face?
Does water run too deep?

Now look at me your leaves,
Which rarely bend from tree:

What age could they recall?
Of passions, dreams, and all?

And what you plan to do,
Green plant that sit in room?

Loud Wind! Loud Wind! Why do you fie?
What troubles thou in 'neath night's sun?
What anger breeds that cause reply
Of trash bag bins and branches flung?
What son'rous winds that may her cry
Leaf-tears hung by moon-tide wind?

Sylvan weeps has Hephaestus yield;
Evil tunes of nature's dial:
Loudest Wind, what bellows you wield?
When stolen from the fire child?
Loud Wind, what sonnets will thy seal?
With mountain breaths of winter deep?

And other houses shall delight
Unpleasant shakings of their rooms:
Perhaps, Loud Wind, this waning night
May ever proud your selfish booms;
Fie! Wake all men that lay tonight!
Loud Wind, Loud Wind, fie this night moon!

To the window sill that lays out the street,
And gentle raindrops that expand the night
And dust of skin where at the corners creep
And four happy children that play outside:
More nighttime autos that bustle the floor
Under quiet stars below lantern heat:
And waning lamps that dim the houses door
And the sullen clouds that eventual sleep:
With calling mothers for their children young
And teenage men play their music and ride
With grandfathers old and lonely in sleep
And frightened boys that in their bedtime cry.
Then a poet that on his third floor sees
The entire world from his window keep.

Decayéd the sky!
   It throbs in black,
And senile the moon,
    She sit afraid:
Recall back the stars,
   To help the Earth,
Infernal the clime
   On darkness day:

Renewed-well the trees,
   To breathe us right,
Relighted the stars—
   But blackened all—
Refiltered the dirt,
   The breeze takes eyes—
But soured the work,
   By crows in fall:

Despondent the moon;
   The sun is gone:
Decrepit the wave,
   On weakened sea;
Uncharted on earth,
   Where none belong,
And a wilted land—
   The black in skies.

A penny for a beauty!
I'll sing it hither thee:

I'll sing alive a beauty
And sing it ever be:

And a penny and this beauty
And my voice in mind them:

Now sing this ready evening
so prithee listen then:

Leave two pennies by the boulder
And a penny you shall earn,

Drop a penny by his shoulder
And a penny he returns.

Give a penny to your pleasure,
Let the pleasure spread like seeds:

But a penny my endeavor,
A penny ask of me!

A sky in purple hue!
Of turnips, roots, and green!
A purple-starred tree-blowing veil!
The stars in sky not black or mean!
And piercing winds that eat sinew,
That sheds the sky in fabric leaves;
I couldn't more describe this night
Its colours awe as I inscribe!

More puddle steps that everyday
Fall back again with water rain
More tiny drops of water blow
And concrete grasses wet the stone:
More morning hue that fills the trees
And vapid air that sets the breeze:
In spring, and yet with winters loud,
The shoddy days the world bestows:
Of quick sunshine in leaving days,
Sour grass set in mellow rays;
A cousin-friend to seasons like:
The April springs of Toronto life.

Navy-blue skies as ocean deep
Wave o'er us like the canopy tall,
And the little stars that quiet' creep
Giggle softly in autumn fall:

Orange dew-drops glide for the air
As shaken bird-wings and feathers fly:
And moon the woman shines her stare
As clouded figures beset thine eye:

And quiet auras the eyes repeat
Through this mid-night in silent fall,
And as each treetop blows and sweep,
The autumn midnight replies in awe.

But I fall victim always one,
To this delighted falling sun,
Still I get shaken by each leave,
Still possessed by cloud and sun.

Beautiful, like ocean sky
And daily like the sun and moon:
Setting clouds, the world heads by
In jaded eyes of us and you.

I miss wet rain on buses
I miss crowded subway stairs
I miss noisy streets in public
I miss breathing ocean air:

I miss walking in the snow
I miss snowmen building high
I miss concretes slushy flow
I miss children stepping by:

I miss eyes of pretty girls
I miss old men sitting too
I miss seeing squirrels creep
I miss streetlights switching hue:

I miss walking to and there
I miss waiting crosswalks tick
I miss coming home all wear'd
I miss sleeping after six:

I miss waking up at nine
I miss dreading morning days
I miss my recurring life
I miss living life again.

Winter fell like a short man's thing—
Too fast and well for us to see:
A gold-ring'd tool that mends the bell
And sets the fall of snowflakes free:

And autumn drained its leaf too quick,
Its tepid branch gives one no fun:
And almost brown the eyes could trick
When stars themselves spill out no sun.

And spring had sprayed such bad delight
In flowers eyes cannot see well,
And plants and trees sit back uptight
While sneezes mark the seasons well:

Now summer's here in aftertaste,
In sweat of bosoms and bricks nigh:
And oozings out of all man's face
That roams this earth thereon by.

Oh Grey-blue Sky
Please won't you tell us why
You are so numb and frail
So against proud detail
Oh Grey-blue Sky
Please won't you tell us why
Your face is so black and pale;
So unworked and bailed
A joke about a paper-blank sky.

The gentle blue violets and gentle green grow
The cobble-brick parapet in mossy-rich stone:

While over by the arches bright,
In the rhythm of a skillful show,
A rock of orange flowers ride
To sing to me a livid woe:

"The lilac, the lilac, behind thee it heaves!
Abhor it! Abhor it! A nature by trees!"
Stood there a lilac by the painted blue bea';
Of doves the white flower, bright beacon by sea:

"O lilac, a lilac, sitting by the sands,
Why do you sit alone? Why grow roots in sand?"
And lilac replied back while turning its head:
"Young poet, some poet, where I should instead?
The grass steals the sun and boards its sunbeams,
The flowers that chat like seabirds that scream,
The earthly big worms that bite and all tear
And women and men whom touch and all stare!"

Why lilac! My lilac! You've turned off thy sense!
The big ocean breath will swallow thy stems!
The iron-grain sands to throttle your leaves,
The baby-born branches, the splinters that rend
In a frenzy to put your flower debris
And rip you into the wide ocean
Sea!

Ah poet, young poet, who perceives my unseen:
The tidal, the waves do rather seem mean;
Upwell my roots and leave me the trees:
Oh poet, my poet, how different you see.

Burger King and minivans
U.S. flags with gasoline
Tiny products of capital grand
Yes I live the American Dream:

Fill your gas, choose the which
Buy your lives and burn the roads
Buy our flag, come second hand
Take their house and take it proud:
Kick the crazy, tent the downed
Skyscrapers prove the money-load:
Hate the other, I'm better than
No place is greater than on American soil:
Yes I live the American Dream

Yes I live the American Dream

Here it is, amidst coward days:
The bleeding yellow bears our life:
And sawn about its yellow face
The putrid oak and yellow sky.

There goes one bird, 'top yellow tree,
He sings his tune of yellow well:
"O' mossy stone, O' mossy leave;
O' marshy pond, O' sun of hell"

And **** controls the centre road;
The geese instill a command high:
And yellow rots the air we blow,
If orange peels had rotten by.

And yellow bends the faces rude
Which chatter in this chatter-box,
And once blue tide that is not blue
Has soured well and wrong enough.

My sweet strawberry,
I breathed in your scenty life
I tasted your sweetening ber'
I cherished your fruit delight.

I pleased your roundabout hour,
I leaved your stretchy bed flower;
I savored your seedy ripe,
My strawberry in the night.

A man who slips on the steps of life
And the sun would bring a shadowy pull:
All men that forget to take this street -
In shameful calls we'll hear him go.

Alone the world has alway' been,
In cold the space where planet bend,
Next mars or pluto lit between —
But none would ever bother them.
Then stands alone this human being
And wonder where he'd travel then:

He flies to worlds beyond the stars,
Can mend the dream before his will,
Can think of ogres, wizards all;
Can think a way into a thrill:
But further down he might recall
Where evil hides and watches still.

While mission plans fall on a whim,
And rarely do they e'en come true,
Man revisits one for him —
And hopes that someone listens too:
Like father to us all children
And mother like the earthy moon.

He might stop and dream of ponds
To sit and play with forever eve:
He might sit with trees till summer's day
Or maybe swim with many fish
Or touch the sky with his geese
Maybe he'll play with spiders nigh
Or creep along with midnight bugs
On his road might he run—
With stray cats that nightly come
Or sit along with navy trees
And dance along the flowers fun
Might he chat once with a moon
And ask it why it shines so white
Or talk with grass why green it grows
Or talk with spirits all through night.

The busy breath of a city north:
                                                        Toronto,­ by Ontario shore.

In realms of deep I've travelled far,
To reach a truth come 'bout a star,
And come back I've, all very thin
From this star and many men:
And good for me, this star I knew:
And lit so well, its selfish hue:
To light a road for world's end,
The star I keep
And reach from you

Lonely bird, for whom do you wait?
Time has passed and still you sit:
Birdie, have you suffered as late?
You stand alone without a twitch:

The rain still cries this afternoon
Yet still you wet your feet on grass,
Thunderclouds yell at you too
But still you seem so botherless:

All alone by your lonesome self
Without a flock of birds or geese:
Funny duck, awkward bird
I wonder why you sit this eve.

There goes an ocean road
And none other is there of its kind:
Where systems meet on earth below—
There languids creep on agéd line:

And languids chatter in their fears
Soon random ones would fall away,
To walk this road to distant earth,
To one distant in distant name:

And no great lesson this road will teach
In the deep blue mystic that lead the souls:
On soaken road, these languids creep
In bottom's deep on ocean soil.

Somewhere in my heart
I wonder why it's blue
Why the sky stays afar
With an ocean bird or two:

How could grass be green?
Like some child's spiky hair,
And by the sun's routine,
Let sunrays in the air:

The tree is odd as well—
Sometimes it grows in white:
What else from earth upwells
For birdies slept inside?

Blunts and problems
moon smoke by the window air

night autos bustling

ash **** falls
away to my street.