I stood at the foot of a tall wooden ladderpiercing a purple cloud in the green heavens;all around the ground was bare except…
Like a mountain standing tall in his majesty
Winded,not up to snuff,no, not nearly enough to blow outa merethree scorecandlesat one go,I wonder — will past excess…
Dispassionthat encompassesthe tears shedover a fallen petal, snow feathers over the bending blades,a turning over in bed.
Make me laughtill I cry, help me live till I die: gasping “Enough!”
The childrenare goldenin the sunset,splashing around netted heaved on shore; the chaunted “Ho!” faints in the twilit air. Tonight…
Would youforce me to intensify my languageand the velocity with which I deny Would youhave me temperand spice and spit my nonotnixnon…
Now,this moment,I know sorrowlike never before,yetcannot sayit was differentin the past;thoughI would gladlychoose past tragedies…
Flowers, when spent, give up their seeds.Wind blows them where it will. Dropped in the perfect place, never wishing to be elsewhere, they root and flourish.
A dirt trackof sunshine, shadeand fallen yellow flowers bursts forth, veersand falls back,a breaking promise — a goraka treelooms…