Apples

It is said that
in an even deeper
sleep we wake
with eyes shut

and see everything.
The unfamiliar
turns around there
(it is said) and

shows its true
face.  Apples
ripen as ideas
and do not

need to be
harvested.

Dandelion

Something misleading
in the center of
why we dream
makes us mortal.

A frozen tear slipping
from her cheek
shatters on the
pavement.  The

pattern it creates
signifies nothing
(a fact which leads
her into temptation).

An ill wind blows
her dandelion out.

Sidewalk

A man sits
on the sidewalk,
tasting the thought
of bread. A

passerby offers
the man a penny
for his thought.
The man demands

less, convinced
that his thought
is worthless.  The
passerby, passing

by, begins
to rain.

Over

Our parents never
teach us how to
die (except ineptly
by example).  And

we never really
pick up much
on our own
(unless coming across

a flock of dead
birds at dawn
counts as some
sort of introduction).

I practice starting
over at the end.

New

An angel's shadow,
set ablaze by its
own sense of irony,
allows an unusually

ill wind to scatter
its ashes over an
otherwise idle countryside.
Children playing in

the patterns this
windfall produces
are called in at
dusk and ordered

to dream a new
tomorrow into being.

A New Year

In the name
of the sun,
the moon,
and the holy

distance between
now and never.
People painted
onto canvases

outlive their Masters.
A lute string
breaks in time
for eternity.

The needless-to-say
 nods in agreement.

A Poem

A poem (the poet
says) is born in
the distance between
a hunter and the

animal brought to
an abrupt half in his
gun-sight.  It stays
there until every

riddle is solved,
until the last bit
of light from the
last star touches

the lens of the
last telescope.