I sat alone
beneath the stoop,
and the beetles' lungs pulsated
in torrential rhythms
with all that we have lost--
even as they trailed their
absurd stems in
horrible lines
between the  neatly machined
granular valleys of the
planks.

This was the breath of
fragile gold hearts;
a wind of ancient style

Compulsion has no

perpetrators, just victims --


and accomplices.

Little by little ,
I fell in love .
A gentle smile,
every once in a while.
I fell in love .
A few words of wisdom,
Whenever I felt lost.
I fell in love .
A  little help ,
Every time I needed.
I fell in love with you.
With each passing day,
I love you a little more...

What ultimate poem
does.....
it will create a pain
of......more like hearing
"a death of a beautiful woman"

Step by step,
bit by bit,
seen unseen
unknowing shape.

Concepts in rebuild
reconstruct what has fallen.

Come on,
let in some fresh air.
No need to be afraid
the same dark chants drift by.

Change resonance.
There is a chance
for a new beginning.