snail trail 
twisting a treatise
out of time

for a time
just the almosts
of Op. 127

final impenitence
a septuagenarian plans
to take the world with him

half moon light
a fading bird tweets
the coming of dusk

leaf seen through
a bloodline ends
at the wrist

bulbous bloom
a blonde bombshell bursts
my bubble

full bodied
a micromoon crests
dusky sounds

with quiet answers 
to dark questions

in-gasp stop —
a reed thins out
my prosody

stridor —
for the time being
I breathe tui