winds wailing
against macrocarpas . . .
such stillness
the coffin's descent
inch by inch
sparrow dusk—
a wind swallows up
the last words
viscous night—
shadows suffocating
on darkness
another          out of line
the milky way
sowing seeds
of contemplation
this silence
dwelling still before
change is 
sun shafts—
golden streams flush out
a peed ant
the way of the rose—
the rouged cheeks of dalliance
no longer quench me
morning call—
not clear in this heat
the sense of it