I will write a very
soft poem for you today...

Very scary, I admit?
your vintage...

It was not a jubilee,
but I had come to pay my debt...

Like a walking fern, you were.
I was talking to you. Why...

Colored truth,
becomes a hot balloon...

You went tounveil your own
statue, before being shot...

In unblemished irish,
the vision was a link...

Constrained.
The starlings will...

I sleep, I wake
for a vigil...

Living a death daily,
becomes a normal chore. It was an intense...

Like Sequoia,
you wanted to grow tall...

When white mushrooms
come in procession...