a little freewheeling
with gears disengaged
downhill and up a tree
to see the leaves turning
gold in my book of twilights

no need whatsoever
to understand this
overture of secret
rapture in the mind:
it's just a little brittle tune
i hum to happiness tonight
for having lived today
freely loving lightly
gladly come what may

and here's another color pin-up
for the private scrapbook of your
penny-each? you're crazy! thoughts
(i mean the funny ones that can't be bought)
regarding which i wish to say:

remember Keats who wrote about
the Grecian urn (an ode to beauty
crystallized in ancient clay) -
and a moment's ecstasy, eternity -
perfect forever, almost but not quite yet
our Romeo with his Juliet?

well, here i am, eternally
ready for the plunge
headfirst into the deepening paradise pool
of delicious, dolorous, deathless joy
and everlasting freshness
that i shall always find
in you (my nameless, shameless, blameless love)


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