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.