Butterfly lollipops, stained-glass tree tops.

Looking-glass waterfall, street corner Barbie-doll.

Mother of pearl, down the hatch.

Sweat soaked sheets, light another match.


Frightening thoughts appearing in spurts,

Beer spills and grain stains all over my shirts.

Wind swept knoll in a summertime haze.

I live through the nights and sleep in a daze.


What does it mean? What does it matter?

Most of this world is just a lot of chatter.


(Charlottesville, Va., Spring 1987)