Here in my late autumn

Here in my late autumn

Trees behind the bare trees

Have grown more evident

I found the woods of me

Beyond old echoes my

Phoenix sings their swan song

Now stars the canopy

New yodels yearning strong

These intimate garments

These intimate garments

Hung out on a clothesline

My dying canary

Or the evergreen pine

The silly and sully

The passion and perish

Moments of pleasure and

The dreaded nightmarish 

A kiss on the forehead

A kiss on the forehead

A brush against the cheek

A pat on the back and

The gentle words we speak

The touching of the hands

A look into the eyes

A long hug and that's Life

And then the sad goodbyes

Surviving our childhoods

Surviving our childhoods

Floating a sense of Hope

Inside the perilous

Untethered without rope

Inspiration buoying

With your success in sight

To define myself that

A capsize can upright

Planning for the future

Planning for the future

The only true abstract

The kinetic landscape

Where chaos turns exact

And finds definition

Swinging hammer to nail

Vapors and future verbs

Solidify detail

Avoiding any trend

Avoiding any trend

But fashionably late

An oak tree in navy

Birds in shoes out-of-date

The cutting-edge grows dull

But passion is real

Time cannot take from it

Fundamental as wheel

All these Rothko poems

All these Rothko poems

Of two color blocks stacked

Can I haiku or ode

This self-imposed word tract

In my mind I Chagall

Or Van Gogh or Vermeer

But when the words settle

They are always two tier