Cloud-popping, blue-raved summer sky
with light stuck out like a tongue:
you're the gorgon's gaze
to a warm, dry earth
...
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Shakespeare)
You're hot in spots and then you fade away....
...
Cresting flowers are plumed as waves.
Lives, our lives are smashed ashore.
Slips rip tide, waves pour pounded mortal roar.
The single life now drowns.
...
You think it's magic that light will climb the skies,
that mind's inner math measures volumed world,
and branch bobs bird as bird with branch replies;
that no heart mends at midnight- whirl when hurled
...
When we finish our dance
our bulk fills the ground,
and the fear that we own
is the thought of no- sound,
...
On this His winter's day the Christ bells ring
that celebrate this season of despair.
Returns the dear, wronged echoes that now sing
in chorus, almost human, like a prayer.
...
This modern step of time may turn my phrase-
but now attend- see language as bequeathed.
What sweep of lines from Homer's waltzing days
shall partner me? Stride quick the speech received
...
--------------------
Drifting, shifting,
silting snowflakes,
moths upon the window sill
...
If you turn from the midnight window, they
peek in. Look, all you see is the shakened
branch, grasping at wind. Yet the past will say
why stars tremble. You, when awakened,
...
Evening falls,
dawn shall break.
I'm to pieces
if you wake!
...