Nights, we take the boat out
paddle our way green through water
swum by inlet waves, full moon apace
shadowy, ancient tribal faced
lose all trace of the shore, black
but for phosphorescence
glowing, trailing from the oars
a haunting ghostly art
green and breathing, disappearing
back into darkness, swallowed
by black water, by night
strange this death,
this rebirth and breath
felt in each and every moment.

I read somewhere
that we dream in
              Black
          and
white
       So,
           why is it
that my dreams are vivid,
                         and life is dreary,
          only colored with
                              crimson blood stains?

dark
solitude.

nocturnal creatures,
moon, stars
for company

still air
gentle breaths
summer's last gasps

the night speaks
i listen

in the silence
i can hear

To all the people in love with the moon,
and to those who love the sound of the rain;
this one's for you:
We're one and the same.

Her memory, the love of she,
In slumber,
That time when sadness sooths itself,
Pays to me a call.
And I, a lone warlock in the dark,
Feel the mattress demit as she sits,
And know her gentle touch on my face,
As I did when I was young.
I  am trembled by her resonance,
(*******, I am trying to sleep!)
Then, I wake to understand what has transpired.
Then, am blessed to have felt her love once more.
Then, I bid her go to God.
But, I do thank her for her visit.

The night gathered around
that suburban house,

amongst the dreaming cedars
& the telephone rang

I picked up, said I'd be there
so I caught the bus all the way to town

Berlin at 3 a.m
was a beautiful stranger

especially Lehrter Bahnhof
moonlight shining through

it's half-completed arches
like through the dead ribs of a Whale

out that late by myself
& at first not a little afraid

looking over my shoulder
aged seventeen

I was still feeling younger
you were catching that plane

& we friends were to meet
you to say goodbye again

& I, hello to the beginning
of the slow journey to the end

The moon is now bright and full
showering silver romance,
to the leaves of tree so dull.

A cricket humming his chants
deep in meditation behind
the dark unknown shrub's branch.

Somewhere in a nest, a hatchling can't sleep
letting out feeble hunger cries
her mother did not fetch enough to feed.

While on my walk, I see those eyes
hiding behind a trunk, peeping
I assure it safety, I know may be lying

Night is the time for them to be,
struggling to enjoy independence and security
this unending night leading them to the unknown
what will remain I wonder at the crack of dawn.