Clouds under heaven fly
Winds over meadow hie
Through kept field and forest wild
Rambles my motherless child.
...
Consider this marvel of Renaissance wit:
The Ideal City, by Lucian Laurana-
See how the canny master contrived in it
To lead the eye along the polished piazza
...
The shade of a bird
flew through my head
and like a needle
pulling thread
...
-You knew her?
-Yes, we had lunch several times, and then, later, at the club....
...
Your grip upon the silken cord grows weak
you pluck them something now like zither strings
It must be strange with no employ of wings
to hang between the moon and quiet lake.
...
Like a land-locked sea, slowly drying up
from the edges in, till just
a splash of its former self-your long dead relations
the island survivors you knew them-
...
It was like in Cinderella-
A bag-lady became a fairy godmother
A yellow cab became a white, stretch limo
A diet Coke became a champagne split
...
Once I lived with Yin
Nights, we sat by lamplight
waiting for the commercial breaks on TV
Her freshly pressed dress brushed my knee.
...