Throw wishes to the breeze at the threshold soon monsoons will resume Jackhammers and fireworks have stopped for now What do you do with a reprieve from hell? Rose petals and love of fate are mine bright eyes fill with water mockingbird sings Wings circling in a Wu Wei way, old sun descends at night’s edge Cymbals on my fingers bells on my feet Sunday wears a wire gown and spun glass gloves wherever grandmothers boogie in place. Spirals turn and the dark rabbit twitches: “No time to explain, can you understand?” I cannot grasp a riot of perfumes.
Another Sea Gull 