for whom threadbare scraps
are treasures under your table
deserts, ever undulated dunes

in picture-book perfect gales

stripping away like sandpaper
perhaps the sting of salt rain
shall sterilize this wanting within

think of me, of us, some time
bandying of thoughts will do
let them sidle up close to you
just as we did not so long ago

then come and gaze again at

the light residing in my eyes
then tell me if your reflection
shines with crystalline truth
some time, think of us, of me

a lonely light
shall be the only
one to shine upon
a poorly lit spot
until its image
reveals a well
hidden spark

Right in front of the koban
Star-B’s cramp and crammed
Not for the presently starving
Perhaps not or the Summer
With its heat reflecting tiles
Where else is boxed contentment?
But where it’s found in a moment.

Here again, there again;
Staring at an empty page
Like a wait for a balloon 🎈
To pop 💥 as it rises high
Up it goes into the sky ☁️
In the end we won’t find
Out, nor shall we ever -
Never been that clever.

Hello
PeOple of the once
EThereal metamoRph
Your moment has now
arrived; PERiwinkle
adornments on your
china on display,
SPecific to table placements
ICarian silhouettes on
placemats, UnIcorn-lined
doilies in conTrast Yell
out: 'perspicacity.'
Your aid and companionability
see us through it all.

Ribald footprints

of a silent, brooding zitar

rendezvous with an ebbing tide

recalcitrant thoughts wash away

along this sandy shoal.