comely source

   cheeks change color
in daydreams and
   remembrance of
resent affections shone,
   like a thousand solar discs
which promise never to burn.
   though nothing so very strong
never leaves behind any scorch.
   unless eclipsed by sweet union
with comely source.

endorphins are born when i forget reality

  there's a pretty false door in front of me
for ornamental purposes only
  heart tells tall tales that it contains everything
and sometimes convinces mind to agree
  especially when i am most lonely
and desperately desire such sweet upswing

under a bridge somewhere

the interstate makes the sidewalk beneath it shake
from large trucks owned by people who never haul things.
how is it the homeless man below does not wake,
and undisturbed, sweet bluebird still constantly sings?
i'm practically perturbed by ruckus ears hear.
still, at least those other aspects remain yet clear:
the silence of a man who has found peaceful rest,,
the sound of nature now exquisitely expressed.