Sun's Face

To awaken to the sun's face each dawn
As though this last night was the very first
Time you had slept apart from your lover
To kiss the golden curls that flow and shine
And warm your elbows and knees under cover
That's what I wish you feel each morn deep down.

Moon-Sun

Every nychthemeron the sun
Ascends a set of fluffy steps
With the same grace and dignity,
Gives another soliloquy—
Golden words of luminous warmth—
To all blooms and beggars alike.
But what begins must end and so
The sun descends behind the rocks,
Changes into snug pajamas
(of vivacious phosphorus white)
And so it begins the night shift
Do not judge! It got stars to feed!

Resistance is Fruitless

Apricots, pregnant, hanging low,
the golden drops of blessed sweet.

Be careful! Some have fallen, split

against the concrete. And as though
they're lips and tongues prepared to kiss, 
have flowered open 'round the pits.
They're silky mines below your feet—
It's too late: You are part of it.  
Oh now it's fruitless, why resist?

The Gray Lion

The gray lion lingers.
Luring him a gazelle 
grazing on open plains.

You devour the flesh.
You taste the golden grass.
Pacing behind the bars.