i was lying on my back
feeling fan steady blow
picking a spot on ceiling
i want to paint something
...
i heard sound from above
fluttering wings of a dove
so white almost like clouds
circling gazing at flood
...
breaking waves on rocks
mist, mist forming rainbow
wetting my arms, my face
i can taste sweetness
...
early; i open my window
to let my room breathe
instead i hear cricket
could be a love call
...
muted ruffling from wings
slowly going deep an opening
surrounded by pinky flesh
scented you can't cease
...
warm grain of sweat rolls
over her innocent face
a bare iron grille window
looking on her old chair
...
i know you're watching crystal ball
with eyes close clinching your fist
pictures coming out of you, so clear
you miss me but for a moment unsure
...
i see wings scattered on grass
flesh is gone slowly eaten by ants
sad fate for once gliding creature
up above trees; wilderness treasure
...
so many words i have written
very few of them i have spoken
i love silence inside my room
so small but still call my home
...
i can hear falling rain
but i can't see where
where it's coming
i can see water flowing
...