eyelids and earlids

beauty from color

shapes

scenery

glimmer from a lake

all lost with eyelids closed

birds songs in the forest,

symphony of city car horns

beeping to a crescendo

cooing of a morning dove

breathing of a lover

all lost with ear lids shut

is one better

to loose than the other

one would have to ask Helen Kell...

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Insomniac

The floorboards above

Crack like rheumatic bones

Late at night

The house groans

And wind whispers

Through the open windows

The curtains open

The lights out

The darkness presses

Against the window

A streetlight drops

White light on the path

I can see a pale moon

Crawling through the trees

A cat sashays

Beneath the porch opposi...

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I am me

Who said this? 

So is my body

An invaded custody

Occupied by her

Thoughts and memories

Two sided glossaries

Not a reflection is mine

That would determine

My own identity

Out of my sanctity

I may be a string

Of any cacophonous Sitar

Where she creates

On my wounds

Riot of sounds

Without bounds

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A small flock of unidentified birds

flies into the skeleton trees

and disappears.

What magic is this?

Smoke from the boiler-house chimney,

at the mercy of the fickle wind,

blows this way and that, confused

unstopping, white, following the music

of Mozart's violins: moving, then still

- a crescendo starts to build -

- falls away to keen -

- a lull -

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