He shot me down
like I was a kite runner...

I love to create
obscene imagery...

On a prolific day
I become distracted...

You flay my muted mouth
coiling around with disgrace...

Opaque and vaporous
scenery inspired me to...

You may never unwrap these tributes,
glowing poetry soaked in complete...

I hid the mossy star
in the center of a blemished bush...

You are my miracle child
a letter of stainless ink...

Our Father,
you read our hearts...

Her dream was flushed into mistletoe's grave,
boundless to stop her, yet tugged around the waist...

Dear cherished,
Forget what we have earned in golden solidity...

You wrote me an ekphrasis
reflecting upon my fingers...