the red glow of her cigarette.
the fingers of her left hand
yellow  with nicotine
clutching dying flowers

"buy a rose for your lover," she says,
"buy one for your wife. buy 2."

"the flowers are wilted."

"maybe it's your eyes that are wilted.

she had black hair
black as the night
the violent night
and gray eyes
the shade of ***** ice

"you must love
someone,
some of the time, no?
put a rose on
your father s grave, then."

"love is like lost pennies
falling from a broken jar."

she smooths her hair with one pale,
long, fingered hand, "you re crazy."

"my mom says so."

i was born to
have adventure

I followed her up the steps.

i was born to chase the night
through the forest
of dead roses.

I need

...but have been too long alone
untouched by desire
the presumption of love
in joints of dust –the lame of lust

So...

Unseen
Years creep by
Silent, numb

No one remembers
who I was

Raising my eyes
to the window—
–a flock of sparrows rise as one
into a gray sky
of mind

Beauty left by the back door of day
unnoticed in fading light

A dull ache
is all

lemon and lime fill the air
bedeck the boughs with sunshine glare
deck the earth with golden stair
before Lord Winter lays all bare