the breath snatched ever-now on the brinkof sea and sky
grave undertakingthis consciousnessdrained of words
hush-breath nightfor now the child's staroblivious
a butterflyalights on the whisperof being
an image of selfbreaststhe milky way
desolate shore . . .how are we to finishour interior monologues?
midwinter bluffI skirt 'round the edgesof my eye pressure
3°CI feel my wayinto being
midwinter dreammy writing handqueries its age
stillness —i write upa storm
haiku moment . . .look here I ambeing in time
stridor —for the time beingI breathe tui
in-gasp stop —a reed thins outmy prosody
micromoonwith quiet answers to dark questions
full bodieda micromoon crestsdusky sounds
bulbous blooma blonde bombshell burstsmy bubble
leaf seen througha bloodline endsat the wrist
half moon lighta fading bird tweetsthe coming of dusk
final impenitencea septuagenarian plansto take the world with him
for a timejust the almostsof Op. 127
snail trail twisting a treatiseout of time