In her pulchritude
The seismogram of my heart
Jumps, yanks, wiggles
* * *
Drowsy white lillies
Contaminates my sweet dream
With smeary pollen
* * *
Shadows, vines, tree boughs
Fire alarm, hydrant, entrance
A shy, fuzzy wall
* * *
"Cherry blossom rocks!
Too bad I'm made of rock," thought
The stone apostle...
* * *
Wish I'm the stone bench
Kneeling before Saint Mary
Till tree leaves turn red