The city sleeps 
the mountains too
giants on side
end to end 
like a caravan 
of rolling rock 
they sleep soundly 
out there beyond 
past the lights 
looming gloomily until 
the early morning 
when the sun 
from back east 
breaks past prairie 
and washes them 
like the smiling 
hands of nana 

Sleeping there faraway 
I do suppose 
similar to here
when you sleep 
far away then 
too in dreams 
of somewhere else 
and I wonder 
then am I
there with you 
or are you 
with someone else 
I don’t know 
but you do 
then you awaken 
from your dream 
and into ours
there here too

It always goes 
just like this 
when one wants 
and life can’t 
so one settles 
and sometimes not
preferring to yearn 
for longing to 
the heart is
like fresh air 
to a flame 

The snow sits
on the trees
like last night’s 
sleep on your 
eyelashes often do 
before your hands 
softly brush it
away much like 
the wind does 
to the snow 
and the both
of you go
about your day 
as if neither 
had ever happened 

What’s happened to curiosity 
did it at long 
last do the deed
and kill the cat
was it then exiled 
to some far off
place where all of 
the other things go 
that people nowadays deem 
silly or uninteresting or 
old fashioned or boring 
is curiosity curiously gone 
never to be missed 
by those who are 
interested only in themselves