Sky-scape

With the rusty cry of crickets
time's lock is turning -
day bows as night
on a cool breeze enters
nature's un-spun canvas

Treetops merge
to plots of ancient
onyx meadow

The sky in cobalt bloom
nests a glaring moon
whose sublimated silver flows
in dormant undergrowth
that turns to misty forest
in the sky-wide landslip
kept in check
by diamond nails

Overture

Morning light steals
into the eyes
diluting a dream
that floats off in the new day
where the shade of palms
had dug portals in dew

Man-holes to worlds
whose fate - like dreams
is to fade?

All moorings cut
the sun takes to small
white flowers - warms
the inoffensive mutter
of waking parrots
- an ocean-green blabber
of formal sponge-talk.

A misty light wedge
cuts frozen fountains
of gold grass bent with dew

strewn among
the rust of dying weeds
curls of black banana peeling
spell the parrot blast
of a new tropics.

Offering

I took lanes of black tar
whipped into far lands
turning moon-light rivers
on desert tracks of old

I rode the last breath
of a soul at death's gate
- rode oblivion's red haze
for sale in love's alley

Spent hundreds of nights
with but patience for comfort
- at dawn lifting thoughtful
wet ants from my wash bowl

I'll hand you the moon
as it traveled with me
- the sun that burned from me
what none would put up with

Solitude

Weightless from
absence of answers
that cancelled all questions

gathering
snapped roots - obeying
singular acts of faith -

locked up in
stillness people crave
but flinch from in others.

What you find
in solitude is
what you took into it

is returned inflated as are
memories of pleasure -

old glimpses
of reality
short of valid recall