3
Blistering thought,
paint flecks
chipped in the mica-afraid
heat of wan-ton passion;
(acknowledging debts to Chinese cuisine)
a wan smile
left from which
I pretend to remember all.

4
Love-smitten
to lend
the reach of your arm--
sighs,
droop to
hips heaving
a droll verandah
(like curtain's edge
across the exhausted wall).

5
Besmirched stain,
The lavender hoop
of your belt is a winding lizard's skin
or perspiring rope
to anchor the filmy edge
of letters written,
not sent.

The breeze,
quiet wind--
a chipmunk
with woodchips
poked into a grin.

DEBRIEFING

I won't envy the heat this August.
The fall (English say autumn)
burrowing like urinating dogs
thru trees,
carrying winter woolies
with sniff of air
crisscrossing the lion's tamer's
path I must trod
when snow hits.

2
No, I won't envy searing blasts
be they inclement
weather or lost souls
bargaining with rain.
Acceptance . . . they say
is the key
and the word clangs like chimes
into my biology, a grandfather clock
to my own chamber music, a
little something to cheer and
serenade the buffeted spirit.

3
Think still thoughts in gloomy houses
when petals cry burst in springtime.
This is done in preparation
for brighter moments
ecstatically greeting
November chill,
devouring the last chestnut,
cursing wheat-cakes over
winter's fire.

4
A pleasant page
crammed in the tumbler briefcase
carrying my life's thimble,
rocketing toward
a brilliant destiny
all 4 seasonal planets
orchestrating mood;
the patch quilt procupine
quill emotion tapestry
working overtime like
a fish hook thru
brain's inner eye, ocular
hair shirt pulled on
at warning's glance
to trigger the way I boil eggs;
devour slivers of wood
on learning another day
kicks ass from
the horizontal pillow.

NAIAD TRANCE

The leaves on their trumpet flames
Richter scale inside pulse stems--
into the gorge, la gorge
throat and crevice
of the canyon arroyo.

Walking the slit
into rheumatism earth
the twilight pain
of Paleozoic ice,
Jurassic Age
whence rupture
sculpted rock

River precipice
the afternoon dangling like shadow
beside taiga sun
lost to dark & rain
toward the water now,
ever, and chemical rushing sound.

Chameleon, I would s