A half eaten Hershey bar beside a full ashtray
Nervous ticks with an eight ball of fury , so we digress again
My breath , the gust of wind that instigated a
typhoon in Saipan
Rainwater at my door containing a tear from a
child in Bangladesh
A ray fighting its way through the clouds
a half hour before sunset
The cocksure tightrope performer working without
a net , shooting at the stars with a hand pistol , thumb
drawn back
My forgiving nature and tolerance under it's nightly attack

Kentucky Autumn lanes with -
calling river valleys
Chimney fire vistas , windy mountain confetti
'Holy Oeuvres' upon Appalachian hardwood canvases* ...

Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow. Solitude is the ally of sorrow as well as a companion of spiritual exaltation.

lying on my back on the porch under a fairy tale night sky
a three-quarter moon peaked and wove
through a filigree lace of lingering white
lighting the backdrop canvas of dark infinity
with a daylight blue
I started counting the stars
like my hopes they were
and got to infinity and
lost count of
the ones I counted twice
and it did not matter anymore