The seas are full
of all kinds
of beast

From the the
very biggest
down to the least

When asked to go
for a swim
at night

I look disdained
and full
of fright

For yes I no

Jack and Jill
ran up
the hill

And stoped
to frolick
in the bushes

Ever since Jack
spilled his beans
Jill has been getting larger

Yes I no

Everyone on the corner
was looking
to the sky

Jesus just then
came walking by
and stopped to ask them why

We're looking for
a sign from God
then they turned back to the sky

Yes I no

fabrics
patterns
silk
cotton
bolts
needlings
and
weaves

(Sonnet)

With looks she is keeping, so rare,
Fruitful eyes in red boughs of hair,
Hands for reaching into the winds,
Breaths gasping of new beginnings,
With looks she keeps this time at bay,
Of new days dreaming, slipped away,
Here the strung, fey huntress will go,
A flung goddess and her quivering bo,
When flowers greet the sun and wave,
In bright meadows of blossoms made,
With looks she is keeping, nows alive,
Heartwoods of longings boxed inside,
How many suitors for beauty to hold—
When gusty old age so soon enfolds?
.

I favored it like grandmothers
Cooking on a brisk
Sunday,
Where dream days came
Flocking like seasonal birds,
A tune played out
Like the last hymn of Psalms,
The words wear me
Like an old Winter coat,
Every syllable
I dang off beat and kiltered
The notes as lovely
As Springtime nuance,
I need no splendor of view
As long as the rich melody
That memory dangled along
I can sing like broken mandalays,
My song which does haunt
And I am grateful
I cant get it out of my head.

Pounding,
Throbbing,
Stinging pain.

It keeps punching,
Kicking,
At my brain.

I can't see out of my eye.
Not with this,
This solid grip.
Slowly tightening around it.

My vision is cut off,
My pain unbearable.
No one can help me from this deathlike grasp,
Because Migraine has a hold of me now.

The blood has gone cold
Spilled beneath an indifferent Moon
The hunt rages ever on
Though it is a hopeless endevour
For all in time become beasts
Spilling first their own blood
And then that of others
Ceaselessly, endlessly
Until the Old Ones return
If they indeed themselves
Are not long rotten and dead