Insolent candy pop skull,
Easy on the eyes
Short on stature,
I get your final comedown.
Here, behind the nape of neck,
Exposed to blue sun-
Pruning the Sycamore for full summer.


It all moves in contemptible silence.
I rigged it from the go.
I see the sun once more
Along Amelia Avenue.
Such is the slant
Drawn up in low light.
Here comes a lover moon
Rising in dusk;
Where every Mother's Son
Hangs a weary star
On its crescent.


Night, with it's visceral lassitude Adding
Insanity to it's notion.
I'll say it's random,
Not much lately,
But enough anyway.
I saw a dream once,
Falling like light in a doorway
A tulip dying in drought.