A fly was investigating the aromas
of my newly poured Scotch
when he was overcome by the fumes
and fell into the drink.

When I picked up my whisky
the fly was drunkenly struggling
against his predicament.  

I watched until the fly was still,
      pondered my options,
then moved to the kitchen,
poured it all down the drain.

I decided to pour another shot
and wait to be offered
those same options again.

To keep moving
seek an adequate
sense of balance
is all i can muster
now that you're gone

You let me give you
all i am
almost all my love
You let me give you
almost all my love

what you would not
accept was light enough
to carry as tribute
for passage
to your circle

the greater burden
of my love unloaded slowly
as rushing water through
carefully opened conduits
of acceptance

you closed the gate
on your way out

what i still must give to you
has nowhere to flow
so inundates me
drowns me
carries me away

no gates to close
on my way out

Morning in the Orient,
rays of the sun
intricately bent
by a night on *****.

Recognize your friends
even if the pain
of speaking aloud sends
memories to the brain,

memories of the war we won
still floating purple-red
in the wounds of Algernon
******* energy from the dead.

Evening in the Orient,
rays of the sun
intricately bent
by a day on *****.

I never thought
I'd have a muse
or be amused
by having one.

But there you are,
O Muse, my love,
and here am I, a-mused
and sitting by your side.

What pure delight awaits the man
who lives the life that's mine
and spends some precious hours
sitting by your side.

I'm dreaming of awakening
and seeing in these lines
the merest hint of how I feel
while sitting by your side.