she yells from the bottom of a well,
thinking someone will hear her.
no one does, so she climbs.

as she's climbing, she hears a voice
that voice sends her tumbling
toward the bottom of the well.

she yells until she can't anymore
bursts into tears, curls up into a ball -
and desperately wants to be heard.

brink of a doubling over
down falls forming a sensory slump
soft spoke and mirror smoke
   jailed as rome's one true heroes
we were softly sure oft and were true disposed,
'man alive told me and now I am telling you'
grant this - that we are born and die
forever feeling a drifting time
what a ride
grant this - that we are most recent
and are and are again
the newest information we feel
grant this - that we are loved
and that we are the newest
unto we are ourselves

neath the maple's boughs
copper leaves were tumbling
in a mounded pile

Love and practicality
A ladder leading into a tumbling dryer
Dangerous and blurred

Flowers with roots to hidden caves,
Caves known as the "heart and soul,”
Which we keep hidden

A tightripe balanced over the sea,
Inescapable and thrilling

Seven drops of rain
  sliding slowly down a windowpane
    creating their own currents out of chaotic sky
  perambulating through the reflection of my eye.

Two collide and five remain
  slipping through a beige, unsuitable frame
    reach the bottom and seem to die
  my watercoloured conceivances drip but never fly

Trickles become one pool - a picture I can't explain
  but within dark waters, a swirling hurricane
    those tears kiss distinction goodbye-
  surrender to let my disordered painting unify.

Funny how things go by so fast -
how they tumble so suddenly
like Jenga blocks.
Falling ever so finely -
piece by piece,
one by one.