At the going down of the sun
will the world be less complete,
the cinched robe of night less intolerable,
as she ebbs away on cosmic string,
emulating a massless, dazed neutrino
blinking in and out of existence,
unobserved and uneffected,
liquored and unloved?

In the wake of a June flowering,
when foxglove lures the honeybee
in six day flash, bud to corolla,
blossom to blossom, parade of stigmas,
digitalis stamen braved, anther at his back,
the bee comes gathering where none else dare.

I could write messages to the sky
climbing to the top of this summer mountain
digitalis pink, swirling sweet with bees
this place, tangled all in green

At the overlook, I am with trees
windward hanging on, dream
to fly away, a seabird ocean soaring
my mind of paper kite, adrift
through clouds of sky

Smell of moss and cedar
release of incense
in the warming sun
footsteps, fragrance
soaking deep
within

This must be Eden's
color of azure water
glinting flecks of sun
transforming turquoise blue
that my reflections go
diving in

Swift bee, the gilded messenger of bliss,
    Begirt with golden stars of Heaven’s span,
What draws you to the clover’s gentle kiss?
    Sweet nectars, that the strongest drinker can
    Carouse with dreams and dizzy waves of sleep,
        Or mocks the freshest breath of summer’s clime?
            Swift bee, a flame-plumed star of black and gold,
    Why do you with your mouth, completely reap
            The liquors that each golden bud does hold,
        And lulls with somnolence the might of time?

Oh, bee, you spread the tufted pollen clouds
     Like nebulae of opal stars crossways
The delicate, soft digitalis crowds,
    Which passionately garner sunbeam rays
    Within their coral shells. I can’t express
        How much your toil’s worth to coming spring,
             And how so passioned glide your wings around
    The purple, gentle harebell’s loosened dress,
             And make, through pretty hums, spring’s hopeful sound
        Oft too profaned by your most fearsome sting!

Oh, pretty hummer! Hearty worker! Bee!
    I see you roaming round the garden’s bend,
Where sweet, white daisies wreathe a canopy,
    And make you but a hearty, cheerful friend.
    Swift bee, the aching, swollen heart of mine
        Desires comfort where pain knows no ruth
            The buds hold, like rich garners golden grain,
    Ambrosia of the gods, dream’s honeyed wine
            So bring and let dear bee, such moisture stain
        My lips and warm my heart with spring’s bright youth!

somehow the only
adolescent
stories worth telling
are reliances on someone
to *****

Belong to yourself in―
green flames and wait for
the hibiscus of September.

Meanwhile you will
break the silence of deathless
moon. I will watch the dark
night till then.

The yes woman walks
on water. I stay on the shore
to see the bones drown.

It was great worthy of the
digitalis. Fingers of gloves
will measure the beats of heart.

Attending the funeral was
waste. You will rise again
from ashes to beat revenge.