Jewelled dragons
Hover on glass wings,
Caressing the silky air
In an irredecent cascade
And rapidly ponders
The sky

i saw a white hart in
a wood,
gorgeous before the
night he stood,
delicate, like a pearl,
wild and untamed,
a graceful flower
of the breeze
where autumn leaves
drowned their
sorrows in mossy
streams,
as surreal as stars
melting their blue
in september seas.

The shade hides your eyes.
I really can't see the full extent of your bewitching gaze.
But you wait there.
Out of the sun.
In the shade cast by a lonesome tree in this vast city.
I suppose that would be the easiest landmark to find among this forest of concrete and steel.
I wait and observe your patience for such an awaited appointment.
All day you wait.  
Never looking left or right.
Never looking behind you or above.  
As the sun sets and the night takes its first breath,  you decide to take your first step out of the shade and into the night.
So I follow you.

A crystal sun shines brighter
To crystal eyes
Than any golden sun ever could.

There's a knock on the door
From cool October
Could someone please her in

Holding a bucket of leaves
Picked from colorful tress
All set for Falls decorating

For October she knows
November is close
With a sac on his back full of Winter

As she scurries about
Knowing times running out
It won't be long before he gets here

So she spreads all her leaves
With the greatest of ease
Giving the ground much need cover

For when November let's go with a laugh
Of his cold Winter sac
Saying goodbye to October

When the sun is gone,
When the moon is not shone,  
There is always someone,  
Whose always alone,  

When the rain has stopped,
And the streets are wet,  
His tears have dropped,  
He is really sad , I bet,  

When he is surrounded by darkness,
When he is filled with regret,  
His soul and body unite in coldness,
He looks familiar perhaps you guys met,  

He is me...

the censorship meme
alive inside me as a child:
some books were worth the mention of--
war and **** were not.

untimely at a pennsylvanian writers' club
where fear lodged quiet smile-halves
in talking clouds and farmyard metaphor,
to weekly bray the corner of an antique movie-house

newcomers weren't to share their work
we three were welcomed as an audience at best
we passed the others' writers' chapter-copies on
on which i scribbled notes of praise
on notes of theme-entwining anti-argument
and **** zests of vast significance:
notes of floral yearning, meadowed love--
iron skies and ahistoric dreams--
off and on archaic themes
of which we weren't to share