A gentle melody carries in
a lifting calm from the middle of the field's embrace
This pause,
in which I briefly catch your glance
Assures in that moment,
I know I am exactly where I need to be

I was reluctant
to miss the blood moon
in your clear sky.

Shame. The city was
dying in flayed arms of words,
revealing muscles.

Violence breaks
the message of Gothic
trees in prayer.

I suppose she
Took that compliment
Or turned it bare like
A barren forest in autumn
Or a deciduous tree in spring's calling
Anyway, she is all I have
Like leaves in Maples
Yellow, gold, brown
As the possums that scurry
In a grave hurry

An apartment with two floors
Who'd have thought?

The kitchen door is always shut
Keeping out memories that, like the smoke you
breathe, infect my mind and make me feel as
though I never do belong

Did I ever stop loving you?

I bump into you as you leave the bathroom and I
wonder if I'll ever get to touch you the way I used
to

I didn't even hold you but my shirt still smells of
cigarettes and fresh laundry; you
Why is it the nicest smell?

Dewdrops on the grass
Shudder in the new sun
as they disappear

Death she is there calmly waiting her turn
A farmer's wife she rests upon the wall
Her scythe still holds a piece of wheat
Her hands worn from the day

Death she catches some sun
A mature woman she in no hurry at all

She is just there

No rush


I can live with that

he keeps asking
why
I don't write
about him

my dear,
my sweet darling,
it is because
you
do not cause heartache
and pain
like the others did

I do not know
how
to write
when I am in love