Sing to me the morn' song,
Play to mine ears the tunes of praise...
Sometimes,
you let it go...
O human face,
coming from the furry past...
Elm wings fall lightly
pepper the brick patio...
Calibrating,
the orgy in sky...
As the sun is heading west
this part of the world is dim...
Half-living in your gaze
a prisoner of messed...
There are the freeze bees
Teasing me to sneeze...
the rustle of autumn leaves
lulled cats...
The moon was coming up
in cross-dressing style...
Gnarled hands wrap tightly round the coffee cup
Willing heat to penetrate...
Without audible conflict
I invoke your face...