when slice of moon is left in empyrean
when sun does join firmament
azure is interchangeable with netherworld
darkness on opposite side of earth
jackal is dreaming
whilst hustler is scheming
broken shadow on rippled lake
lurching subject does awake
heron has found morning
with it comes turtle snack
waited all this time
for hatchlings to come back
to pond’s edge
rouse of jackal

Today I removed a cloud from the sky
and dissected it

This is what I found:
it's skin was made of a drove of lambs
hundreds of them
completely weightless

As I plucked them off
they rose in insomnia-tic song
puffing along
back to their fields of azure
ever for sure
someone would soon be counting on them

As I uncovered this first layer
and watch merry ones drift away
I’d liken to say
saw a wash of dreams unfold
more than the many sheep I counted
and fell into them

And drifted away as well
you were there too
pouring yours into this floating vessel
of bouncy measurements
of worries and hopes

And we kept on drifting
waiting to rain

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Hummingbird-hawk-moth and honeysuckle
Dewey aroma wafts, whilst luscious colors lure
Tubes of flower half full with nectar buckle
Furred insect cares not posy’s thoughts impure
Yet lured, yes lured, to stamens ***** quite more

Fancied moth puts out its long filigreed tongue
Anthers reaching for coveted wings to dust
Objectifying prey, tempting juices corolla young
Wild waltzing flight circulating pollen in lust
Honeysuckle’s sweet sensual seduction a must

Qualities as these voluptuous encounters
Reveal to mind complex ****** intricacy
Flower employing moth as vehicle mounter
Carrying to other blossoms pistol’s ecstasy
Nature’s chance romantic dance of delicacy

Find me peeled and threadbare at Grizzly Creek
Past a bend of Yuba's middle fork
A twisting force with incredible torque
Come to auric memory where hankerings seek
Express your desire for, disrobe, bespeak

I am skipping rocks and charming rainbow trout
Flitter sunrays off cherry dragonflies
Glitter as they do, they like to dandify
Join my hide and seek, be silent , do not shout
If I spot you first, ensnared you know, no doubt

Here I am, so please ask spring fiddleheads
If they not mind to spare a few
I'll saute them with lavender just to eat with you
Running water's stream bank, to me you are led
Let live oaks shelter us, for there our love be wed

I find my emptiness at the beginning
of panic. The time changes, and as I pause,
between the magic and the real, a sudden
nothingness descends, and somebody
goes away, plans forgotten and mislaid.

It does not matter that the dark falls
too early, skies damp with the the
hopefulness of being confused again.
Even dancing holds no appeal, as
the music is plastic pop with a beat
but without heart. I sense the pouring
little I've become, escaping only when
hour clicks to another number.

Darkened rooms lend whispers.
Can you hear them? Let the sentences drop
and fall into a descending tone, for the
collection of platitudes are heavily
pregnant with hints of beeping bells.

They've gathered here, manifest
with their antiseptic concerns
Mumbling to one another even though
the sentences are necessarily vacant.
What small measure of happiness I
am able to endure is saturated with
routines that are tiresome, heavily laden
with standing still in rolling cyclones.

I kick at the plastic straws that litter
the drinking cups of plans come undone.