I am plying the waters
    where poets dreamed
       and Mary made up monsters

more easily we could reach

                               the moon,

as paddle that bohemian bay. 

again,           the solitude of change
and strange dreams of lands
     lie within
that embrace;
of these street sounds
plying a new found beat

enjoyed
dreamed of
yearned for

      from whence comes place
       nor person, 
          but within the abstracted
       life and form
to every dying norm
          tis ever mine
       to toil and tether
    over this divine
adventure... 

drink down the moon
in delicious delight
from amber sky's
that scent of myself
                  lingers.