December 2017

labyrinthine cloud . . .
yesterday's is
becomes its was

a blackbird close by
all the more

passing stranger
are my eyes
your way station
or are yours mine?

in another life
I grasp the insubstantial
in a dream's last gasp

mob rally
a why nowhere
to be heard

dead silence alone knows why

a sentence faithful to its end.

a sea view
filled with countless flaws
missing the point

sprung rhythms . . .
the poems the maker
of the poet

bees too fail
to recreate the scent
of grapefruit blossoms

peony bloom
an idea of order
beyond reason

a nightmare
of falling awake
fledgeling owl

beatific vision
through clouds of unknowing
spring cataract

a balmy night
and my brain barely
processing words

inside preternatural nature walk

what luck!
the scent of freesias
while longing for them

La Niña
I feel ya
tropical heat

a reed of itself in sound

time to sleep through when