Under the canopy
The constellated berries.
Their red and purple stars
In a galaxy of green.
...
What does one do
When they fall off
The face of the earth?
Do they sink
...
Those pouting curls
Of countless lips
That race to kiss my shores,
Inhale my seeds and sands.
...
Most of spend our lives
In waiting
Following the rules.
Whose rules?
...
I love the way
The alyssum plumes,
Then spills and pools
In pockets on the rocks.
...
The red screams
Without a sound.
Not a bloody word.
But far from silent
...
Do not allow
The dark poems
To flood and rust.
Welcome a little light.
...