------------------------------------
 \ why is it that time slips /                              
   \she slides and slithers /
     \right through these  /
        \ infinite crevices  /
          \found all over /
             \my greedy /
                \ hands,  /
                   \ like /
                   /    •   \
                 /       s      \
              /            a       \
           /             n            \
        /                 d              \
      /                                      \
    / in the dainty hourglass \
  /sitting aloft my skew shelf.\
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the sky is on fire
at sunset

(and you want to know
why i'm sitting
on the roof

the sky is on fire

and I only dream of you

and in Tibet
the monks write their prayers
on rice paper
and climb to a high mountain top
and fling their prayers
into the wind
where they will float
to heaven
and be answered

the clouds:
violet,
pale yellows,
and pink

and you want to know
what i'm doing
sitting up on the roof

so standing
I take the toilet paper
from my shirt pocket

and the wind knows
and skyward it goes)

the sky is on fire at sunset

and my quiet heart beats only for you

raggy,
risten to rhis,
"rells rike reen spirit"
r-I ruv rirvana raggy
rotgun to his head
now Rurt's dead

"chemistry is a pain in the hass!"
avogadro spouted malignantly
so he traveled the world
counted every avocado
and got 6.022x10^23

The moon, I smile at you
Every time I feel alone
At least one thing never changes
After all, I still see you

Mark Zuckerberg: good morning
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Tim cook: good afternoon
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Jeff Bezos: good evening
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You: Dream big. Make good use of every  opportunity, for determination and hard work coupled with opportunities leads to great successes.
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Don't lose hope
The world on thee await
Soldier on
The world is watching
And waiting

When greatness speaks!
The earth speaks!

if night had a sound it would be a low chatter
the hum of electric cold air
that quietly blows
crisp linen sheets
that speak in the dark
freshly painted walls
that scream in white
television screens
that murmur stories
flickering light posts
that buzz in the night
iridescent cicadas
that hum in the trees
incandescent lovers
that talk in secret
fingers pecking keys
that drum out words
if night had a sound it would be a low chatter