Herewith
a phrase or two
exploding you
o bladder of pomposity,
...
I am the imposter
within the poet
imposing on your innermost
tweaking at your heartstrings
...
The wind is whirling the gulls
over a white-capped sea
here, where Pacific ends
...
Barchash are little Levantine bugs
Flies most unlovable
Nobody can think of any good
ever coming from a
...
Shall my words
stretched thin across the page
ever shimmer
with living opalescence
...
Time sits on my shoulder
implacable
Time looks at me in the mirror
...
Am I
that figure
at the wrong end
of a telescope
...
Storks circling
rising with the thermals
on a blue sky
...