continue onward, continue on;
the new bland moment is tapping its toes across
the cold steel floor in this waiting room glow.

the hours are long as they go counting down to
the old silver pond in the pale moonlit glade.

the hilltops sing across a glancing light bounces,
the noontime sinks to a dull sullen gaze

the slightest hint of a minute's twitch,
like conceals the jester
a smirk with each passing joke.

exultation

above the limitless noise from every which side
blows the bubbling flow of stinging autumn air
that bites the nostrils, ruffles nosehairs with sharp take of breath
on this, the morning-like, of otherwise frigid nights.

the moon is dreamt with such volume and glow, it
with spiteful hint betrays the sun's absence and
rhymes with the nihilistic sky.

quentin

oh you curious notion, how
is it that you flit across my mind with those
tiny pretty feet of crimson gold
sticky wet daydreams sopping
seeping deep within the
'vices of my brain?

your sun-kissed wings a-royal blue, they
flow and curl my tiny world,
a-mutter softly their mother's rhyme
while closing in with dad's embrace.