
Gifts from a loved one:
things with gaping holes in them;
we cling to comfort.

Gifts from a loved one:
things with gaping holes in them;
we cling to comfort.

Arms wide, in the air,
partying like the eighties—
wispy clouds scatter.

Strolling at sunset,
racing the deep horizon,
to awake the moon.

From beyond the trees,
like a dead man arising—
the sun gathers mist.

Sparkle in my eye,
the smell of a new city,
skip of a heart beat.