When long days drag on me And my soul cries in the dark Then I speak my prayer in sleight And He slips it into my jar. Prithee – give it wings to fly up

On Havana’s white shore – With each salt-infused whirl That agitates its border— Every sand is a potential pearl.

Love is many, Water is many And flows aplenty But Fire is one And consumes until gone All but purity.

Sweet crickets, the tune You’re playing tempts me to sleep. By your tune, I will drift off Better to a place dark and deep. The low moon and toads

A milky-eyed mourning dove Sat upon a tombstone – tacit – Inside the grounds of St. Francis To admire a cache betroved. A sentinel’s duty – it bears –

A dream is a butterfly Fresh from the cocoon That is realized and soon Flutters up into the sky Or faltering, goes astray

Oh joy! at the night sky And the wonder it declares. How flirtatious! How they flare— The many stars on high! There’s Castor and Pollux

Happy eyes need not the sun For they, like yours, have a light… A cutting light the demons shun That confesses to a kind, ageless… Brown upon brown, they draw me in;

An inhospitable truth I have To carry throughout my life That must stay buried in my heart— What a terrible truth! It dances on my tongue

What love is this That spellbinds me And keeps me returning To read scripture? Older I will get

I’m envious of the clouds That float happily in the sun— Changing into colorful shrouds— Lumping from many into one. Their most compatible friend—

Flowers in the desert Vibrantly grow forth In yellows and purples Despite the salty Earth And when I think about

A rose gave up her secret Of its origin – of its beauty – In the shadow of her crescent— Fiercely hushed once to me. She told me of a plan of love

I was smote by words As a soldier with bullets ‘Til I harnessed their power And they slight retreated lest I would fire back