Noble companion, stay striving still,
keep thriving through weightier nuances...

Above my bed in time with the sway
of curtains caressed by night's breath...

The sweet stickiness of strawberry jam
was the air of the airport, and on...

If you were a planet, I bet
you would dance around the sun...

I wake up every morning to an alarming sound,
the sound of no sound...

The rhythm beat of sax floated
over from the canopied jazz club...

Ink seeps down, again,
Scratches, reflections, soap dust...

Only once, with little acclaim to
notoriety, symbolism or fame will...

Nightingales nuance
morning melodies for those...

I went to the station where the rain was
pouring, turbulent, seven years old...