1909.

The unrelenting
onslaught of rain here wears the
sky down in cleansing.

1908.

A surrealistic
fanfare, solipsistic in
its failing wonder.

1907.

The colored fever
of season's storms, resonates
like an anchored bell.

1906.

A massacre of
expended motion, spent and
forever wanting.

1905.

My feet are anchored
in lead with each step further
extending away.

1904.

I yearn to mold space
and words direction, cast to
house sublimation.

1903.

Desire fills up
my lungs in a desperate
attempt at drowning.