I use the word alight a lot
for I often discuss birds and souls in flight
   who seek rest upon branches and stars

And twilight too
   is more than mere sound     
      with its unvoiced tease
         at the beginning         
            at the end

unbreathed tongue stopped
   air pressure

too many times
   does birthed crop up
         no one really sires ideas
            or a new me
with the frequency that I imply

and reams of dreams
   a shortcut for setting
      context for symbols
         cleverly 
awakened by cymbals 
   from the room below

   a drumroll, good speakers
         sounds like vinyl pushing air

            a zoot sizzles on a zildjian

a zephyr in the treetops,
   how I love a good canopy
      a hazy cool gone wild

in the midst of the pink, in the mist on the brink

   I ideate to while away the time
         while sexy somnambulists samba
            sweaty in summer

I write little (nothing?)
   about afternoons, interims, go-betweens
      or what the germans call something-something-blick
      the blur that's there but not seen
                               when you move your eyes from right
to left rapidly

   to leave suddenly is a theme of mine
      whether by death, or train, or a slip in the night
         usually twilight, never mid-day
            to help spawn a new you
               love lost then found!  then lost again
                  twice alit 

I overuse heaven and frenzy
   rarely mention hell except on earth
for a short while I SO LOVED 
      oxygenate and its various noun and verb forms

         even in haiku

                               (...a kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?)

and photons, and light, and sentience, and all things eternal,
goddesses more often than gods, one God, non-dual, trinities,
Evans' trios and Miles's quintets
                                           peace and hope and love and Gaia

but always somewhere lurked a kiss
   a soft and quiet run of a finger
      a long stretch of skin 
         a shudder, a tickle

the lost picture of the only thing lost,
      a haunting interval

         perhaps an interim at last
            
a hint at what takes place
               beyond the ellipsis

cc: CC 2022