A pair of once clear blue eyes
And a small mouth in silent desolation,
both shut, but warm and so brave and wise
to fight against painful memory ablation.

A mixture of perfume and dust
Added to this peculiar presence
Or a puzzled piece of the sun at dusk
Mixed in a strong, bottled essence.  

Some bare foot steps on an oaken floor,
wrinkled hands and silk curtains get drawn,
A gentle touch of both old and cold ****
And maybe the armchair contemplating yesterday's dawn.

who was that, passing on the main road?
who knows, but that ponytail looked so familiar!
now and here, when time seems to have slowed,
when no visit is ever auxiliary ...

there are no steps coming through the old door,
and waiting is the only thing left to do,
until all of these hopes will no longer be sore
or maybe memories will fade away too...

I am dust.
Blown by the wind
And rained down
By evaporated seas,
And flowing
And glowing
And starting
A sneeze.

I am dust.
Just a tiny piece
Of earth,
Just a flying piece
Of rock,
not steady,
But ready
for permanent
Change.

I am dust.
Not now,
But always,
And important
Through all days
Like Saturn
Or Plato
Or Gods
On walls.

I am dust.
And as dust flows
And as wind blows
And as my
Soul beats
With ashes,
I will
Forever be
Dust.

On rising heat, killdeer flush
to decoy the enemy--
threat to its young that roams too close
They rush to skim on hayish blur
wailing over wildflowers drying

Fretful twitter in perpetual flight
swifts-- twirl and hurl their bits of bodies--
debris
from a cumulonimbus of a late-day sky
toward a ridge of stag horn sumac
presuming horizon primordial
behind which time and city-- drift and wobble
on rising heat-- after rush hour

*Rising Heat
Rising--
to meet my mind
on its way down
from my post behind
the laundromat
where I view it all--
rising--
where I usually go in search of quiet
to almost hear the ocean
     two hundred miles away
to strain words from wind
     in careless conversation
to wonder over
     missed whispers....

But not today
In rising heat, I went down
in search of something better--
     your eyes again
     solvent for my presence of mind
     dissolvers of hours and the order of things
But I need an excuse!
     To turn, to trespass, to disturb the peace!
     For your eyes again!
And still I need more-- being feverish, weak
Or?
Or... should I take the cure?
     To deny ...To deny

To deny what?
Overtones from a sea of years?
I don't know!  Whatever it was!
Nothing explain it...

I melt... I'm gone....