I like the way you speak of
leafy poetry...

I've been skipping the sidewalks
of my latter poems...

I rove
like a gypsy...

He inspires me
with a yellow bellied impression...

I am no good at waiting
so I immerse myself...

He knew I wandered off the cobblestone
of some maps misdirection...

It was a gradual unfolding,
the listless dimming of love...

Who, who, who
braids words in her hair...

Yesterday
secure abaft a palisade...

I've been drab
and wordy...

I miss the days
when morning tide would greet me...

I find your tongue appealing-
the way it settles...