weighted scales fallen from eyes that I do not own
other monsters come beneath and rise over them
we place napkins so lightly arising and weep
tea time, flowers, amenable, soothing

running to get a foothold, three steps before a leap
none will say goose goose gander to you or I
nobody wants games now in my rubble of storm
all is a heap of torn down things floating away

hold onto your hat, it's deep here, a gamble
there are footholds in a marsh inside my dream
pitons need sharpening, moon shines merciless
as we tumble into said ravine on one long string


lost, as begun
never to
rise

The weather speaks its wintery tale
On this last day of April
Sending mayhem into bush and tree
Shaking the blossoms in their break
For bud.
The Bride drops her veil
Under Flowering Cherry wings
Red Camelia broaches
Fall as from a night at the theatre
Lost forever in a carpet of dreams.
Around the perimeter
Everything sways
And the blue cloaked conductor
Orchestrates from
The washing line .

Love Mary