never but in spring, my dear [pulling around to a spotlit alley] could daisies conspire to match [fumbling with the keys pulls] your frailty; yet [them out of the ignition pulls] somehow your eyes betray you [her closer to him met with] (showing inner strength courage [slight resistance (tries again] fortitude in a veil of femininity) [this time more persuasive) gets] dreams seen ephemeral passing [a slap returns a fist (shuts out] through your gaze (still [screams oh my gods and the] am i forever left gaping [blood) fingers/legs pried open] mouth open as you step delicate [allowed one moment of grace (thanks] as a flower graceful [to his free hands holding her down)] as a ballerina) by me; [opening the door discarding] only in spring could i be [what is used he pulls] lost in you [out (and gets a burger)]

spring

 

when armies cease to scheme

it's coming -- the crimson waves are breaking --   caught outside, in my buttressed bubble, which, like the Cassegrain model, reflects convex (real to unreal), intrinsic to relative, through a hole in itself --   i can feel the earth, in protest, shaking --   something deep there is in Nature's folds, that, when it senses threats to the tranquility of its order, against its purported owners revolts --   God knows a new storm is in the making --   but not of His design. or maybe, indirectly; is it Will the bombs like cruel hail should batter these glorified shells, which took so much Life to build?     if peace arise, when armies cease to scheme, then passion dies, when lovers quit their dream.

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