r feelings from earthly sight.
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Part IV
THE BURNING

PENCIL SKETCHES

Staying home,
I caught naughty elves
watering my piano,
growling inside my head.

Faucet drops
beating out in harmony a drum tatoo
to the tune of a plugged drain,
the careless postures of indifference
retold lives lived on spindle shanks
caught on the obligatory
insipid train
of obliging a pantry full
of ones you love.
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EMPTY WARRIORS

The jungle where the meow goes in, is
a forest for hoodlums.
Trucking up, the empty warriors
breakfast on lost impatience,
apricot fields away.

Now see them speed away.
Their lollipop cars drizzling in the sun.
Their apathetic stares really cantaloupe harvests,
left too long in the sun.
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THE KEEPER OF THE JEWEL

The keeper of the jewel.
I file it down,
keep it smooth.

I can be found any day,
busy disguising the
jaded and unproved.

I follow forget-me-nots
in a forest pool.

I undo knots
in groves of shallow trees.

I pretend unfit sores can sit
alongside water smoothed
pebbles in a sunlit stream.
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ROWING WITH CRAYONS

I see children rowing with crayons
across a park lagoon.

They are sagging,
they have just killed a blackbird playing:

the lot of you,
scribbling to school.

Later on, I retrieved
the pieces of paper, ink covered, from a field.
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COLLUSION

A surtax on the ecosystem;
so many raindrops, mists
and bud breakings
record spring days,
that the movement of sap
fluids and other vital
juices involves all life on a colossal
scale; beyond puny human understanding
why green shoots shed restrictions
at the parochial level.
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GOSSAMER THREADS

I feel like cutting my finger,
hiding upside down
clinking a canteen
shelling peas along the floor.

From the focal point above
anything could be.
Light dripping upon
forlorn gossamer spreads
like a balloon.

Merely the vantage point
of a perspective
quietly threading.
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A FACE

A face in the mist, with rain around,
clings to bare leaves frowning.
A fa