you must have a mind of grace
to wildflowers in winter see
touch softly and kiss these
not waves, but small tastes
not dreams in empty mass
but humbling feats
unexpected, sudden sweet
apparitions by rocky pass

what are beats and breaths for
other than to address
the enormous storm
inspiration itself
rattling the door

fresh ratlings, rather
past imitation of old masters -
(warm blankets)
    and quiet shores

perspective lost in current caste
fractured scenes through warped glass?
vertigo pools below highest dives
grass' color, either side?
dear friends who turn and wound
mirages of heros and majority rule?

i heard that
the supreme compliment or gift
is one's attention
and tonight's moonrise broadcast
has mine -
(and the coyotes)
completely

as if you could not eat otherwise
that's how a poet should write
that's what she told me

but that's not the language
I use
no no no
no

it is and has been
a headfirst dive into
a shallow lake

soul and spine's at stake
it festers there anyway

but beyond that
there's the conjuring of
limitless higher powers

long meditations
on self mortality
sweating through
bedsheets

touching, almost
the azure wavelength canopy of sky
with slow breathing

wow, what exactly just happened?
not déjà vu, really
more of stars aligning in my direction
dripping a divine drop
a touch
from that which resides in the recess of the mystery
of the notyetknown

Baristas, patrons
Even the quicksteppingsuits
Can read you like a book

Your face tells the story
"Tempt not a desperate man!"
They see all your chips on the table
Out like that

A few lines of heartfelt disclosure
Now appear
And you disappear
Back to the world's rhythms