Crimson clouds hang low.
The day’s embers glow softly,
burning down to dusk.
The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.
Waves, softly lapping
Dappled light wanders.
Across the lush, verdant grass
I go to freeze on dark tides
I wake before three.
for another’s riches
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Sitting here distraught Trying to think of why you’re On the other couch.
Under the mattress Mink oil, ball in the pocket My glove waits for spring.
A witty singlet, with nary a wasted word, makes a uni-verse.
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