a Lucite Spyglass

This weekend, I identify with things in the air
like Polaris, or the muted clouds.

My empathy, now in intestate,
and bearing the brunt of a placid state
ingratiating solar dust.

Apprise

In your mouth i sense your lapse,
like a migrating trout or asp,

whose upstream trek is hard to climb,
and sees his own penultimate demise.