[Camachee]

play poker
when prose
is not
an option
and art
has shut down
for the night

[Camachee]

practice
the politics
of possibility

[Soaring Feather]

The paint has dried
cracked and worthless
canvas stained and ragged
the cards no longer hold
the magic
moonlight
has dimmed to
misty fog
but your image
faded on the old
canvas brightens
the candle times

[Kay Syrah]

My barber wants
me to turn my silver
into gold,
and surrender to
the art of color
inasmuch as I began
with copper, I like
the naturally positive
progression and
I think I'll deny
him his bleachable
moment.

[Kay Syrah]

Reading autumn signs
morning is the red repair
of nights blue moment.

Standing in silver
we move towards gold fall
leaving isn't all

Falling into you
quicksilver uncatchable
mirrored distortion.

Beyond reflection
cold images love replays
I knew you before

Still lakes in winter
remember summer's portrait
water shivered, lost.

Memory's hot forge
casts you in clay and lost wax
your image remains.