On rising heat, killdeer flush to decoy enemy-- threat to its young that roams too close They rush to skim on hayish blur wailing over wildflowers drying
Fretful twitter in perpetual flight swifts-- twirl and hurl their bits of bodies-- debris from a cumulonimbus of a late-day sky toward a ridge of stag horn sumac presuming horizon primordial behind which time and city-- drift and wobble on rising heat-- after rush hour
Rising Heat Rising-- to meet my mind on its way down from my post behind the laundromat where I view it all-- rising-- where I usually go in search of quiet to almost hear the ocean two hundred miles away to strain words from wind in careless conversation to wonder over missed whispers....
But not today In rising heat, I went down in search of something better-- your eyes again solvent for my presence of mind dissolvers of hours and the order of things But I need an excuse! To turn, to trespass, to disturb the peace! For your eyes again! And still I need more-- being feverish, weak Or? Or... should I take the cure? To deny ...To deny
To deny what? Overtones from a sea of years? I don't know! Whatever it was! Nothing explain it...
I melt... I'm gone....
An old poem that keeps finding itself a need for expression.