Kaizen 

The autumnal Bliss
Collecting paper flowers
A marlboro bough 
Cherry blossoms in a night travelled road
Dark like night sheets 
Rooted deeply in parks 
Funeral coats are funny 
Dusts to dusts 
While counting each moments
Loose ends
Piano players are happiest
Yeats was right
So were Poets 
Fool's paradise
Dark rhythms I conceive you
My Muse of torpedo blue 
Little Bluebird of my chainmail desks
My autumnal pinings 
La Vie en rose 
Gold hearts get noticed
Poets are happiest
In a sense 
Paradise eden 
Lean in art's bosom. 
I summon my Autumn.