Refugees of romance
running scared, running scarred...

(For Dylan Thomas)
Burn the night, seize the day...

Snow is the pure white sheet funeral shroud
pulled over to cover the corpse of autumn...

A yellow ocean
a million dandelions...

Sometimes a thousand rays of sunlight
bursts through the gray clouds of rain...

So what are we building or destroying
as we go through day after day...

The bones of a butterfly
lie dripping gossamer flesh...

Lost angel hovers
caught in a halo of dreams...

Bats rats dog
flow doom peels...

The electric night eats us alive
a fire moon burns the blue-black sky...

Wood and glass sifted
through tangible wind fingers...

In a delicious feather lightness
arms wrapped around each other...