Pollockesque birdshit
Dangles from bus shelters and clouds:
Beauty unnoticed.

Mourning dove mutters dawn
She leaves sun-up to complain elsewhere
Humming hunger.

Sick and unthriving
Gosling, losing His face like a bauble
In the subway crush!

Taut, lovesick hands twist
Torturedly, wrist braids wrist, thumbs
Clasp then contain themselves.

Narrow branches
Light filtered through leaf-screens
Shifting tapestry

Green birth of spring leaves
Snow-frosting lines paths and branches
Glitter and shadow

The immoderate cries of the songbirds
Beckon to my memories,
Your broken gasp, your slow, shuddering bones
Remnants of wings
Trapped in your shoulders,
Embarked on the voyage
Of your hips.

A small opera plays across
Your face.
In the wilds of your hair
My fingers dive
All five of me uncomb your hair.

O Masada,
Alibis are gathering.
My fingers again itch
for the world of your touch.

Who left you
On life's doorstep
And ran away
And colored your young face
With soft rage?

I will
Ruin the parasite
Who maimed childhood's
Paradise.