outlined in shades of reality
replete with eclipsed potential
the morning moon in revelation
unaware of her ageless touch

the language of time is floral
the color of anachronism is sage
so asymmetric in its beauty
so linear in its dictates

but her silhouette defies projection
refracting moments into mosaics
collaging aspirations into awareness
as dreams clarify into appreciation

sentimentally tattooed
permanently scarred
a colorfast spectrum

unrequited amnesia
autonomous dreams
bright grey dawns

perpetual emotion
forward momentum
one track bind

junkyard patchwork
mismatched symmetry
residue recalled to life

a tale of another city
one stanza at a time
reborn to dichotomy

should fate reveal
passionless existence
would poetry still be written

Budapest Utca; Rainy Evening
...were Caillebotte a Hungarian

notes of ginger and honey
savory **** of cabernet
improvisational watercolors
harmonious star ascending

if only time knew when to stop
when enough was perfect
heartbreak would be extinct
intimacy...infinite

a museum casted shadow
variegated in hues of history
envelops the hour of the dog

a street paved with memory
adorned in May nuptials
whispers a toast to continuity

a cafe table ripe with potential
lost in studious consideration
brews eternity from lavender latte

Inherent nearsightedness
  a natural tendency
  to appreciate flaws up close
Inherited farsightedness
  an acquired ability
  to step back and perceive beauty

microchaos...macrobalance

a semblance of perfection...
all the reality one needs

delicate springs of sensibility...
wound so tightly
by life's twists and turns
relieved intermittently
by uncoiling poetic release
ticking away periods of peace
...like clockwork