Gleefully, with fingers flying fast
she places her eloquent words
down on the page, emptying her head
The reader, with awed eyes
laps up the words
She utters a cry of praise,
for the writer's edible thoughts.

The writer lies dead.
The reader, completed.
For the writer has relinquished her
brain to the reader.

In the flashes and black shadows
of July
the days, locked in each other’s arms,
seem still
so that squirrels and colored birds
go about at ease over
the branches and through the air.

Where will a shoulder split or
a forehead open and victory be?

Nowhere.
Both sides grow older.

And you may be sure
not one leaf will lift itself
from the ground
and become fast to a twig again.

Vast and grey, the sky
is a simulacrum
to all but him whose days
and vast and grey, and—
In the tall, dried grasses
a goat stirs
with nozzle searching the ground.
—my head is in the air
but who am I . . ?
And amazed my heart leaps
at the thought of love
vast and grey
yearning silently over me.

A three-day-long rain from the east—
an terminable talking, talking
of no consequence—patter, patter, patter.
Hand in hand little winds
blow the thin streams aslant.
Warm.  Distance cut off.  Seclusion.
A few passers-by, drawn in upon themselves,
hurry from one place to another.
Winds of the white poppy! there is no escape!—
An interminable talking, talking,
talking . . .it has happened before.
Backward, backward, backward.

I
Am an English Major.
Numbers **** ***,
And I keep trying to pass it
But I'm stuck in this class.
My homework's due in three hours
But I'm rhyming instead,
I
Am an English Major
Who would rather be dead.
Or go to bed.
Or eat bread.
Just not do math.
****

Dawn breaks
Shattered like glass
Pierced by streaks, sun
Bleeding away it's cold grey
Waiting, it would seem
For something to provoke it
Chased away even more
As houses wake and lamps light
Silence that once was still
Now a ripple in the pond of life
A splash of red
A smudge of blue
Bringing life to me and you
Awakening our wonderess world

The words I leave unsaid
Throb like police lights
across my mind reminding me of
those that escaped to early
That hit their target
With weak strength, gently shot down
Several other's words of similar nature
Left upon thine deaf ears of mine
Who's focus remained on one alone
And yet these words of mine
hold fast to thee, adamantly
A phrase once said, yet unwhole
With maybe and much thought
The gaps left room for acceptance
"I think I might be in love with you"
Those words best left unsaid
For now

With every age I gain,
my wisdom grows ever vaster.
With every fading season,
my hair grows all the longer.
With every setting sun,
my knowledge grows ever deeper.
With every speeding hour,
my melodies sound all the sweeter.
With every inching minute,
my breath comes all the clearer.
With every passing second,
my heart grows all the fonder
of the people all around me.
Who are aging just the same.