poem
I am your idea
linage of line
to the page
dedication itself
to your leisure
mystery lives in
the ones yet fleshed
and we are of
those very same we
truth in stares
ageless anchors
to a shore less angling muse
with the wrong door painted
as window
I now have full view
of your lush courtyard
from every angle I choose to look.......
(written Feb. 23, 2002 5am)