I am sat by the dayflower. One that looks like a butterfly, has two pastel blue wings, trunk of yellow blooms, with limbs of growth.

All the new birds sent by mother sun welcome my shadow and my skin. Mother sun who rules the lion, wears flowers of gold, carries

An online poetry panel I attended had a distinguished poet wanting to explore transcendental lyric in poetry over her usual methods of writing from the

A study of the purpose of art and impact on art timeline   Problem of Complexity Evolution increases order, which may or may not increase

Intoxicated silhouette sits across the nun. The nun whose night lamp lights up the city of foreign goons. The silhouette keeps obsessing over the curtains,

The poetess transmits the poem from other dimensions, enacting the metaphor, relaying the message with skin, with fragrance of white roses from reality unparallel, today,

Dryer overloaded with violet scarves keeps rotating. Endless rotation of time, this time through wash of fabrics, embroidered and fragrant, torn and rotten, loved and

One land of tar blood sits at the edge of the sea frozen waiting for the inevitable, for the diamond ice to break. The coming

In the study of history of crime writing in American literature, important observation for me personally is the contrast of language and style ( not

Mother’s veins make the skiesMoss green stretching beyondThe clocks of magnolia’s blinksRoots of the monk’s PrometheusBeyond seasons of my nectar birdIn silk lap of moon’s

Across the house of renouncing doves, moon’s light has shaped tonight like the roof of my estranged lover. All the years in between now erased

Tropical storms built these leaves of homes. Without promised light of the holiest sun, they are with holes now, their flesh vanishing in the air