My Grandfather’s last dream In a deep sea of white, heavy thun… Until a peaceful respite blinks What will it bring? Will the rain… With their piercing showers, will…

A natural fog Too tired to remember Dowsing memories Broken alarm clock weeping Woe be to his faint tick, tock

A stone for a head A dauntingly fragile nose Sudden convulsions To lay my head down in peace My vestigial heart begs

I guess it’s about that time again time for another pointless relapse Time, like a dusty album record Spinning, around and around on end I want the needle to break or veer…

Such sweet aroma Breathe in the color deeply Exhale precious wafts Crisp Citric spiral peelings, Fill my compost disposal

I pray for the day When my mind is clear Silence, sweet silence Schemes and impulses forgone To live without a shadow

A soft fluttering A pulse that pushes beyond Beating of the heart Oh to express the joys of, A soap opera here and there

Words without meaning An open mouth seems empty Trying to express Something that dances lightly Forefront of a clouded heart

Howling and wailing Like the vast October winds Delightful to find Many who share the same chord Sing till frogs jump in our throat…

Fresh Seattle rain Cleanser more of soul than streets I envy that sound Such simple pure harmony Don’t forget that umbrella!

Bickering tree frogs Endless croaking back and forth Dream a soothing song One where two branches can meet In this capital forest

Just for a moment To glimpse from dusty pages A single white flash Tenuous seconds follow Until a roaring reply

Sweet little black box From metalic elogy Sleep now, sing no more

To etch a love song No earthy ink can suffice Only color drawn From such a naive heart-well Could paint even an inkling

Twelve in numbered spin Once reaching double digits Feel the crisp brisk sweeps Sudden gentle remainders Subtle breath of orange array