soft rain
the lily and I with stars
in our throats
homeless
wet leaves seal the holes
in his boots
out-breath . . .
a sheet of glass falls
from my paddle
rush hour
the quiet helicopters
of maple seeds
rolling thunder
kiss-curls at the base
of your neck
office windows
the mountains will wait
for me
the blue eyes
of African daisies
how I miss you
pond ice
the things we lost
last summer