it is wrong in all i do.
impatience lingers to be caught.
i cannot catch what is not mine
to borrow, dear. i cannot rhyme.

what you try to have, is heartless.
breaks other than you in two
lost pieces. smithereens of old,
sore fear.

i search in woods for you, i loose.
more than i can carry.
leaves and autumn branches hit
me on a blonde lost head.
i walk unwanted paths through
this what is called heart.

and echoes float, to nowhere
so it seems.

what seems close, is hard to see.
to tangle and carress. love lost.
as marbles, everlong.

and shoulders do not carry more
than they can stand. nor do
hands write less.

to be found, forsaken, in cold
long winternights, under covers
i shall lay. dreaming and
forgiven. for all that leaves a
mind like one i cannot name.

in scratches, i do wonder
what is
to be found.