Mauve, beneath a torrid sky,
suckled bloom of paradise.
Bred to disturb me, quietly,
as a warm winter drip
no longer cools,
but languishes on my lips
in private pools.
Sentient of the motion,
but distant to the sound
of tears on rain,
playing violent violet eyes
to the awe in me you rouse,
and let my stupor swell
on smothering cliche..
in shades of blue and gray.

“Cheerio, Cheerio!”
Even when he doesn’t feel so.
The sign of spring
we all await.
The male sings
to court his mate.
At dawn, he sings his song,
to our pleasure or dismay,
readies us
to greet the day.
Suitors’ contests
win the day,
within mid-air
and bright display.
Lady Robin builds her nest
anyplace, anywhere,
as blue eggs
birth the babies bare.
The fledgling
follows mama ‘round
till papa brings
the chick skybound.
And all throughout,
we feel the joy
that yellow beaks,
red breasts, employ.

Stepping through the door
to all that’s unfamiliar
leaves me feeling strange,
In fact, peculiarly peculiar.

On voice of narcissism,
deep the words do sting,
to hear the prideless beckon,
to touch the troubled dream.

My dreams have slept beneath a pile
of heavy awkward stones.
They’re buried in the past –
a life that no man owns.

Whispering tall,
whispering far,
whispers tell it all.
I cannot foresee the future
though there are
deep dark secrets
locked inside my crystal ball.
All is shrouded,
captured in the prism wall.
Dusty caverns,
sleepy hollows,
tocking of the clock unwind.
Mystic fog,
uncertain travel,
Fear has drawn
the curtain
of my mind.

The mendicant squats
with a cold, blank stare,
leaving her fumes
in the rancid air.

Man and woman lie
beneath the azure sky.
No need for shame.
No need for blame.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that
the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
2 Corinthians 4:7-9

Shades of night and day,
ensconced in jars of clay.
Dance in the dew of the dawn,
rejoice in sight reborn.