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.

1902.

Peace, an elusive
wonder by which all souls wait
by the side for turns.

1901.

If only I could
just poke my ear and let the
thoughts come tumbling out.

1900.

Angels are a soft
ideal, leering in judgment's
blind usurpation.

1899.

Today is caught like
webs in the crosshairs of a
past long forgotten.

1898.

When you stand at the
horizon of your life, what
will be stitched inside?

1897.

Ink stains on bleeding
walls document the capture
of paper mimes here.

1896.

Silence, the repose
of deliberate actions
oft spoken intent