While It Can 

Precipice with blue sky,
what's in me to host
an imagination brought
from youthful morning
for sparse adulthood, 

to lift beyond a weather
shore's coastal collapse,
the irretrieve freeboot
physics of water, horizon's
thinly washed erosion, 

time always beyond me.
I look to dragon strung
hum of sea cloud dreams
alive on unstoppable wind,
coils of indecisive vapor 

offering toward fictional
peacefulness of air. These
protected intentions,
to place the back sketch
of forgotten memories. 

Those fugacious images,
all that this boundless world
ever newly modeled upon
it's ceaseless brevity
does ever promise.