at bedtime
my eyelids...

his fan blows
the artist...

the hammer
nailed the toe...

my mirror
mirrors me...

flying through
clouds of birds...

in fields of roses sweet, I swirl
the petals soft, caress me so...

one night
it dawn on me...

often, days go by
like food on the bird’s feeder...

some days, my bladder is like
a food garbage disposal unit...

some days is as if
i were an airplane being piloted by God knows what...

what happened to the days
when writing words...

some days
my thirst is so immense...