There's a blandness in the air
that stones me more than any drug...

A nuance of silent grackles
an august phantasmagoria...

My mind seeks
to set the words on fire...

Melting clocks cascade
down waterfall stairs...

My poems are
dreams and memories...

The moon shimmers
luminous in the blue-black sky...

Tasting the last blackberry kiss
she fades like sunset music...

Created in our own image,
ever vigilant...

After the dawn's metamorphosis
we taste the hard edge of living...

Why do i move toward my future
with such lemming instinct resignation...

It's such a clear obscurity,
a hazy cognizance...

Peaceful days of languor grow short as
tattered scarecrows gaurd barren fields of...