not what I think

in the first line
I'm haunted by the
visual affliction of poetry
the word and
and

the soothing
evolution of the death of rhyme
and the sound of syllables



.

In the Arena

Is the old way out?
in this way only is
romance about
the way I love you

I can sense you in the area
on a sign outside where
the gates to the ocean open
lay the earth behind my blinds

A wedding bell chimes
the lull to be kept in
pursuing a hope without gradually
caring whatever that means
growing within love
in the beginning
dreaming there is no left there

Squeezed by her legs
and pressed into the sun
a place a home
the earth behind
my blinds
opening the floodgates of an ocean.


.