An inconstant love

alone, I find the oceanic feeling
which philosophers long rhapsodized of
like quicksilver swallowed and sunk
a heavy stone within me
that thins to blood and courses fire;
to be is to realize
the mercurial.

Fulcrum

In the darkness of a cocoon
I lie with stars in my eyes
and wishes on my lips

Whether I am in stasis
or taking the slow time
of metamorphosis

I cannot tell

Transfiguration

Petrified, my heart
Refuses your vain entreaties
Deny the charm of your
Silver-plated words
Which do insinuate
Like cold serpents.
Give me your kiss of sin
So I may spit the poison
Into the well of your being
Which I devour —
A rapacious beast.

Dandelions

A bed of dandelions
Has grown
By the back gate

Stability

A blank slate of stillness
Is what I hope for tonight
That the waves and ripples
Stay their ebb and rising

Building For Rent

I never once imagined that those places
I loved in childhood would be changed
Or razed or disturbed into forms both alien and familiar
That the corner nook would be filled with dishes instead of books
The white walls washed a sprightly crimson and black
The woman behind the counter who smiled crookedly disappeared
Along with the cook’s milk jello which lingers on my tongue
A memory of both my mother and a lazy summer day;
I see the new façade but still see the old
Superimposed on each other
Present and Postcognition embraced

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