not many of us try
trying to master tossing
***** rhythmically over and over
into the upper atmosphere
successfully

but life,
shoot, that’s another thing,
making juggling a life skill
that comes with the hard
crash of a ball dropped
and all the glue,
can’t return pristine
to what now is an
edgy
design
of a flawed life
cracked up to
be a mis~fortune telling
as
*a map of cracks run rampant
rampaging, ramp aging,

ominously

sometimes when I peek at that reflection
every intention involved in letting the world see me
instantly goes away

the sun in my eyes
sometimes it's a welcome pain
we are awaken

~
the night starts here,
the night starts here
in the dunes,
fixed in time;
incipient waves falling into place,
their subtle purpose
to roll over and sing;
the fountainhead above us,
like it's above the shore,
attaching softness to a shell.

we blew on a dandelion
and the whole world disappeared;
love is a mysterious shape,
love is a remembered rhythm.

I have trembled
my way deep,
I'm a guest in here,
drinking at the stream,
seeking bliss in
the plural homemade kiss:
peppermints and orchid rain.

we please the night,
we please the night in interlude,
and it merrily leaves us that strand
of pearls called "good morning."
~

Seeing the raindrops
meet a passing existence,
in limpid tears