The Square Root of a Lyricist

Subtle wishes—let's call them daydreams—
are the bane of a mind with time—soft
beginnings of some mind-breeze that come
seasoned and hunger for remembrance.

Yet you hover in shadows of advice that weigh
against the lightness of word kisses. Catullus
told his detractors to go to hell and the first 
of many echo's has found this room.

I will write what's mine.

April, 2006

A Page in My Handbook

Just like that, the wind lost its breath.
The natural vibrato of the ocean's waves
became an elegy, and only the light from
midnight stars pulsed as his heart slipped away.

In the century of quiet that cradled widowhood,
they understood that wisdom comes of beggary.*

Written in 2004.
* From "The Seven Sages" by W.B. Yeats)