
late Summer:
the last days before
reed heads fluff.

late Summer:
the last days before
reed heads fluff.




fallen blossoms
carpet the ground,
mottled by sunlight.

I cannot be one.
I cannot be lost.
I cannot buy my entry
at a payable cost.
I cannot be three.
I cannot be boss.
I cannot isolate: diamonds
from the dross.
I think I can be two,
just the me & you.
our two could be one,
like two planks form a cross.

buds & blossoms,
in vibrant red, gussy up
a dreary cityscape.

summer sun so bright
the sunflowers take a break,
& turn backs to light.

summer evening:
long shadows climb steps
their source won’t reach.

How would you design the city of the future?
For the robots to rest comfortably over our cold, dead bones.