This this is
my new favorite 
time of day 
of week of
month and year 
this time this 
moment as it
stretches into next 
like putty like 
spilled water that
drips wetting around 
and this wetness 
like rain itself 
makes things shine 

Only one today
one thought one
deed one word
and one dream 
though many ones 
one of each 
one sun one 
moon one smile 
and one wink
one love one 
touch one embrace 
and one soul 
so many ones 
in this day
that this day
is one too

Me and Monet
we love haystacks 
he paints them 
whilst I forage 
amidst them looking 
for that needle 
don’t you tire
I once asked 
my friend Monet
of painting haystacks 
no more than 
you tire of
looking for love 

And the trumpet 
smooth and throaty
it lulls and 
lifts squeals and 
soothes always questioning 
but never solving 
especially when paired 
painfully with Chopin
then it haunts 
and it heckles 
and sometimes heralds 
of new comings 
or welcomed goings

I could 
I might 
I don’t 
have to 
limbo this
thistly place 
of indecision 
to sleep 
to wake 
to on
and on
or pause 
and wait 
to pass