Only a glimpse of you, once.
Spread across a Summer day.
With monkey tree eyes clamoring up every jungle vine in the place.
With Tiger Beat glamour smeared across a soft little girl face,
old enough now to grow its growl.
With no make-up to hide yr voice from me.
In dirty feet and white shorts,
showing yr teeth to me,
in competition and naked lies.
And I look down from yr knees, shaped like the morning air,
to see the grass is eating yr toes,
as you play yr games upon its backyard.
And I am saddened that the grass got there before me,
with its green envy blades.
It will be cut for its insolence come morning.
Will you still be there?

Today is my birthday.
I look around at other people
and think "It's not yr birthday!
It's mine!" But who's to know.
Maybe it is his birthday too.
Her birthday also. Yeah!
But then again, maybe it's just me.
Today is my birthday.

Hang it all, Ezra Pound
in yr 2nd Canto voice
Twinged w/ roman accent
and smelling of
burnt Jew

Do the sins of Man
tread upon the grace of Poetry?

there is a beauty in spoken words of a dragonfly
the banter of Black River waterfalls
there are wonders to be found in sands of the Gulf of Mexico
and the view from red rocky towers of Arizona
beauty is in erotic whispers of willow trees
and the touch of a sleeping bat upon a wall
who mumbles part of a dream and wiggles back to sleep
and we are all arms outstretched under big sky
and we are the beauty of butterflies filling yr beard
and America is a pretty girl meditating beneath a tree