When I face

These pancakes,

Eyes search

For ways to



Sanctity in

Whipped topping,

Butter running off

In divergent rivers.


Swirling eddies

Feeding heat,

Slumber awaiting

Questing organs.


Your surprise at

What feeling

Hits you,

Quieted of the

Mechanical noise

Computers drive into

Your static skull…



My Romantic Poetry

A Thing Of Beauty


She is a thing of


Softened grains,

Pearl clamped

In a scaled shell.


Poet’s muse is

Her only.


Tightly wound

A glimmering thorn.


Envy’s follicles

Never escaping



Mirror drop of

Soft petal sheath,

In awe of

Grace as she is



Sweet surrender

Of rains,

Heaven’s gaze adrift

And never in search

Of Envy.


Peeking out at serenity

Streaming in,

So delicate,

A rare particle,

As soft as a maiden’s gaze

On her lover.


Sweet, never too succulent,

Always closing in

On Beauty.