Willow herb floating

on silent certainty

ashes of sighs


not fleeting,

unvapoured on the

blossom of the rain,

I am too light to

pull or push

the swing of delight

through this land.




The rain left me for a

while

sun unshielding

-a thousand widows

more unyielding than the depths . .

Once shadowed whisperers

of delight,gossamer

sparkling , descending

their chains

of necromantic hope.





Lilith is no night owl

she is mother, eve

and my becoming:

sweet earth spun

at once ,

exhaling her .





The see saw

bumped gently

on my chin

it is a most gentle

form of awakening.




The silence bore no whispers

till sinking through the quicksand

-or was it quicksilver?

-in any case I could smell little

in my amniotic amnesia.

I made ten thousand friends,till their soap

made this place clean.



Is this a seed or a dying

hopefulness

-is my sallow sowing

beyond all shores of

reproduction;

a reflection of the child

they dared not bear?



Is my last breath like this

a forgotton yielding

will they catch me

as I fall ?

-(sweet earth)-



This moth of my ending,

a shallow recantation,

my fears-

their memories, mere

testubes of

stylish hope .





I breathe the elegant stare

you have forgotten .

Once more free

from such

rememberance






I need not ,

remained not ,

your imploded ,

wakefulness .





A thousand pardons

exhaled like silk

entwining

an unfinished race

spider of a thousand eyes .



One may say

I was

stared

to death

but surrogate air

mocks childish pity.



Taut refelexions

bear salt echoes

in silk convulsions

fresh water

a veneered hope .



Easier in death than life

is a child's sorrowed

partings ,

the illusion of

bouyancy

rippled tides

unfelt.



The oceans have not enough salt

for such shrunken sorrow.

if we could but once

have shared

unbreathed aspersion .



The room has come and gone

the pillow quite undry

unforgotten

unremembered.

A web untouched