I scrutinize the pith
of poetry...

Lately I've grown quite fond of Mother Nature,
I feed her bananas...

Bees busy themselves
with menial chores freely...

He veers towards them
with a certain slapstickish fury...

The stars are all gone
and their dust has settled...

I miss him-
and not just those hands...

I keep expecting you
to dazzle me...

I saw a young girl today,
probably about twelve...

It feels likes I'm living under water,
little fishes kiss my nose...

I wonder if there ever were a thought
that echoed my own...

Lies as sincere as poetry
swam beneath his shallow pond...

I suppose it was the way that golden star
reflected her light...