The amazing maze constructed out of old ideas and rotty themes has its grip on me.
My feet in still wet cement have to get some direction from the top, the Man in charge.
I’m going to cut in line to tell him that this is a metaphorical matter of life or death.
I hope and pray that he will anoint me with his special touch and show me a new way.

Fortuitously my appeal would be heard. Some winged figures issued me into his chamber.
But all I could hear was a growly old man behind a green curtain that was suddenly invisible.
And the wiggly “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.” Man or god, I now have
The courage, the brain, and the heart to find my own way. It’s an old path, to my home.

loving a ghost boy,
brown, gentle eyes,
dark flowing hair,
you magnetise me,
love soft as the sky,
enigmatic, beautiful,
out of a shadowy night
your love finds me,
and i find you,
ghost boy,
boy that i love.

with their beautiful
yellows and blacks, turning
lion-hearted faces to a
southerly breeze, eyes
focused on the sun,
wedded to god and light,
their suns, a river of
dream,
their moons, the
thin drops of water
hanging on them
like rain on a stain-
glassed window.

I ride waves
deeply unaware
of how long.
I ride waves
afraid to face
what will wash
up from the sea.
I dive in slowly
As if seconds
last forever
but in just minutes
I’m face to face
with the silent ticks
of each gone hour.