late nite thoughts
He is a man crowded, magic
I’m changing, twist twenty daisies
into green ponds
asking sinking flashing
in gratefully lived frames.
I see completely, his pointed afraid heart.
Set that prison invite to maybe
darn excuses,
buckled brother.
Sit, set the fire
the idea lazily maybe merely
existing
All I hide are promises.
Positive backs into opposed reality
she who is of wooding
seeing you.
