I start working on these things during breaks at work. Then, if I have time & energy, I write them later.


Providence. Rain-soaked street.
Hesitant March weather (cool,
gray). Low clouds, parallel
to the granite, concrete.

Where fountains of ocean sky
come pouring, showering... a gray
mosquito boat floats - hovering
between the streams (evasive, shy).

This concrete husk of solitary walks.
Maze of temporary paths.
Revolving labyrinth,
crepuscular (within gray rocks).

Along descending granite steps
a wake of wayward pelerine -
maybe some muttering Madeleine,
grey-eyed Ondine (of unknown depth)

- within an Escher etching, inside out.
We know how Jonah must have felt
beneath Leviathan's gray pelt. That
submersible arc light, sans spout -

grave of abortive prophecies,
gray cul-de-sac - sacral skull
(chambered) sounding burial
at sea
. Within a sea-worm

(see?). Then a swift gray seedling-
bark of buoyant pity - one o'nine
amazing coattails, trailing five fine
contrails - thar she blows now, peeling...

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