Topiary in a Teacup

I want the green
luminary

vegetation
like a soul 

come over
nimble quiet
like a  small

remembering 
whose fullness
of tiny flowers

dint the landscape.

Shoreline Thought

I do not think I will pass
into day
with solitary hotels
next to the ocean
nor eat the stems of roses
with the spine,
the head, the waist

the bones
where the seabed
walkers walked

I do not think I will

shoulder the room

with rhododendrons

or water the whatever

In this house where

Lived for a time

a dumb play

of undulating plates

with windows

I do not think 

I will remember 

what you remember 

the fire

The smell of

unforgiving teeth 

I do not think

I will remember that.

A Wave

The cavernous unfolding
fond eye of the dolphin
rolling in

As green fish
with extraneous idioms
limit the soul's blue lozenge

devoid
of the reddening bronze
ends on an extended hand