
i see a horse,
and hear a banjo tune,
but don’t imagine…

i see a horse,
and hear a banjo tune,
but don’t imagine…

once majestic,
tombs of ancient kings
reclaimed by nature

rumpled beauty:
chaotic but bright,
purpose unknown

a stooped farmer,
fingers in the soil,
forgets back pain
the hawk's head-shifts are precise and follow in rapid succession... and then cease it lifts one feather at a time as if sniffing its pits it shifts from talon to talon, and then once more it seems to be settling in, getting comfortable for a long stakeout... and then it's gone, diving off the ledge, disappearing into the city valley

footprints in the sand
diverge, and i wonder
if there’s a story

There once was a monogamous Geometer who could angle in inches or kilometers. "I do love triangles, except love triangles," At orgies he was a nervous vomiter.

light sweeps slowly
across the cave floor;
can bats tell?