Sonny Rainshine Poems

One summer he read rows
and rows of Elizabethan verse,
from an anthology whose jacket
was illustrated with a red rose.
...

Every day we say goodbye,
until we say goodbye to every day,
yet even in our dreams
people are lost; things recede.
...

Into the open window,
the perfume of ripening pears
meanders through the room
like softly whispered prayers.
...

Two human beings,
both sure they are right,
standing there, with guns
aimed at the other’s heart.
...

Yes, you honeyed your tea
or sugared your Kenya coffee,
but did you sweeten your outlook?
Are you a softie;
...

At first he thought they were gnats,
miniscule specks orbiting around each other,
like neutrons and protons,
you can’t see them but you know
...

His dream is to dream.
At 3 AM his REM
sleep remains elusive,
fluttering under his eyelids
...

Who do you think you are, Grover Cleveland?
she asked. Who?

You, know.
...

At first he tried to pinpoint the precise
time that it materialized, or that he became
conscious of it, since he suspected it was always there,
recessed, praying, cursing, whatever it did
...

Audacious, impertinent:
this Marchiness in May.
The seasons seem to have bumbled,
bungled into anarchy,
...