Well, you lost it all
to win your prize.
And all the dreams you hold sacred
are now miniature-sized.
...
outside last night I heard
a cricket symphony
so soft, lightly low
there was a weeping in
...
I stand the precipice
of horror and rapture
but can not move
...
You've given me inspiration from afar,
come in and warmed my heart,
you intrigue me in so many hues,
my beguiling muse.
...
the moon was grinning
Cheshire-like upon me,
when first I was blanketed
in your voice
...
a hazy light
hangs in stiffling
Southern air
...
What am I looking for
up in the starry sky?
and what these
dreams about
...