How do I Say it Plain, I am Accustomed to Saying it Otherwise?

Bob, , 
The Score-

A note in the third measure
Begins to move backward in time.

Would it have been better to begin with
Illegible sonnets?


The Tower-

A subtle maybe 
Of dusk 
On the lips

Has yet to land
And never will.

The self settles in like a pencil
In a toaster,

Tipping between worlds,
Ideas and sounds,

Wearing only the ideas of shoes
Before breakfast.


Blue-

A ribbon
Prized
By ghosts,

Like the taste of an apple
Or the sound of a garbage truck,
Possibly the memory of the sea.


Salary- 

I make
What a ghost
Makes

In an empty hallway.


No Answers- 

Can laughter make the trees
Turn white, said the moon?

It can, questioned the sea,

With a cadence only
Moonlight could sustain
While gurgling cannonballs. 


In a Time of Sad-

The sea and the heart
Share one memory,

Clouds hardly notice
The speed of light.

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