Woman

bodies composed
with precision
organically symmetrical
give birth to nomadic thought
wandering aimlessly
into patterns of design
completion upon comprehension
of divine aesthetic
woman

Renaissance

Theoretically
the moon has come
forever
to impregnate
the dead roots
of winter
and give birth
to spring

Truth

It often comes as surprise
a rubbing of the shoulders
the caress of winter wind
along the spine
slipping of time through sand
which only hardens when water
is applied
don't be surprised
it is a gift
I could never imagine going
to sleep
with yesterday in my pores

Fouth of July

A fire was lit to the clouds
and each one burned in its own
colour
the people sat and stared
not understanding
the interpretation of emotion before
their eyes
it was a lonely evening
in July
that day
I began to burn
and have yet since then
been extinguished

Thinking

the grass never grows here
only cement
in these gardens
c'est la vie

Absolute

she threw a brick at me
and I have been recovering
ever since

Truth

I would move
but my bones have become stilts
allowing me to rise above
only to let me fall
the wind blows like an old cliche
allowing the sky to lose
its blues
I've walked a long way
to get here
though i've settled
my feet steadily move
avoiding the complacencies of the heart
nothing ever changes
its only the movement of the clouds
that make us feel whole