Red, red, red

i met a man who
   could not see
      any colour.

   though i love
      to see colour,
i didn't pity;

   the man with
      no colour
was good as any.

he lived his way,
      making this 
   world his own.

he wasn't disabled
      in any way. 

      nobody knows 
what other senses
he may have had.

      he wasn't talking
about such things.

      perhaps there is
no way to speak of
   unshared visions.

we all walk alone.

Mule Deer Doe

Mule Deer Doe

she's beautiful
   and elegant,
   you can't say
      she never
looks back.

   she scratches
when it itches,
   and thinks it's
just the natural
thing to do

      here, in the 
neghbor's yard
   she adds a 
   little grace

so beautiful
   she makes
   some men's
mouths water.

      and i wonder,
   what kind of
life she has,
sprinting away
      at a sound.