the sun has failed.

not that the universe has ceased to love
but it has surely quit
the enterprise.

we are the margins of  ”  why  “

And nothing leaves us as stranded
as ourselves.


i seek the green fields of your lush tongue.
the dreary lisp of your swollen
sunshine...

i grapple for the eager drink of your dream
to sustain the penalty
of my willful
love.

the winter in summer’s teeth
is the frost that gives life
to crisis.

a golden gleam
that has you as you are
before the forest

of your everything.