the smoke curls in a soft white stream

entering into my lungs and brain.

 

today I'd rather be a painter than a poet

this scene:

          this gray daylight

these twisting thoughts in my brain

should be held for knowing

                      there is no words.

 

give me the words

               a smile

               a warm touch

I'm alone and afraid now

I even fear my fears:

               the circle widens.

 

          Scene:

a stone is flung into the lake

small waves roll in widening circles

toward every shore

a man sits

quietly on the most distant beach

lays his head back to see the stars

moving:

              winking and changing in the dark sky.

the small wave makes a soft rushing sound

as it rolls across the sand toward him.