if this is
living
why’s hairline
receding?
teeth chatter
like
winter’s
visit..
out of season,
just an old
habit,
if this is
life..
time to
live
it.
rhyme
skyline radiates,
hearts risen
to new
sun
in
stirring
sky,
bracing by
window
behold the magic
work
by
forces unseen in
living dream?
a fever dream
run out of
steam..
found dripping in
the clear
of too clean
mirror,
worked long to wipe
all streaks–
no wish to
speak
of drying
tears.
april showers
prolong
hours–
day stretched looser
with each
drop,
a lilting lovely,
slow motion
breath..
pulse at
rest.
wounded in warring
of weathers –
ignoring the
geyser
focusing on patch
much drier,
the hiss makes
it hard to
think,
and maybe that ain’t
a bad thing..
when armor’s
chinked.
my tiger’s got
honey
eyes
and i could stick
around
day and night to
watch them
drip
thru jungle
heat,
in open
air,
or..
‘tween leafy
sheets.
can one be strong
and soft with
charm?
and walk, armed
tucked under
other’s
arm..
safe to run, or
pull away
in need for
play
or,
fretful of
harm?
outrun choices..
round the
corner
to spot
unsuspecting me,
staring out
at sea,
one needed
push..
i’m free.
waves recede,
yet
shore remains
between toes, shifting
soggy grains-
next kiss will
come-
soon enough to
keep face
cool..
spray freshens
lungs.
diamond lady chases
hot gloss-
but craves
modest
too–
were
kiss seekers
to sit and
ask..
might they find
truth?
or,
are they lost
to you?
hands in the garden 
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