Prisma's Saved Poems

They mingle on the naked maples—
   Sparse, the yellow leaves;
And soon their plight will be our fables
   Told on winter eves.

The crimson hearth, aflame and glowing,
   Soothes us with delight;
And soon we come to love the snowing,
   And...

Moon pyramid
inclined lines, erect on the plateau
where plants evade man,
channels that cross the street of the dead

You seek the sun, solar cult, curved universe
your pyramid is about to die
coveted by intruders
they besiege and prophesy...

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
  Not shaking the grass
...

All the while they were talking the new morality
Her eyes explored me.
And when I rose to go
Her fingers were like the tissue
Of a Japanese paper napkin.
...