.1.

At everything of beauty
I throw an anchor
and tilt perilously in the wind

.2.

The string ran freely through my hand
the kite and wind
were one
were free
were gone

fly little wing
into the kite-eating tree
to the heavens
and out of sight

I sit with dusty petals

3.

Lies
no more lies
now death
lost
now never

I died
and still run on
chasing reflections
a kiss
a remembrance

I turned my head and died
died to live
died and I'm reborn
and I'd abide
I'd abide
in what communion
did I even know you

there's only ripeness they say
its all about ripeness
its all about lies

4.

I saw a flower
and picked it
I wore it dead in my lapel

I returned and returned
to the scene of the crime
and mourn the broken stem

life flowed on
over the corpse of our love
a flower
and a prayer

5.

When he had placed the last stone...
this is a remembrance
of a prose\poem
of Lewis Kruglick
about a Chinese monk
who wherever he goes
each place each scene
takes a small white stone
and puts it in his pouch
and in his old age
finishing his journeying
he begins to arrange
each stone
into a garden.
and when he had placed
the last stone…
he looked
and saw what he saw
without memory"

"Is that the end?" she asked.
"No, that's the morning."