Know the literal
but understand the figurative
it's not the kernel
the latter is the real gift

We were there
long before--
the wooden bench
still remembers-

it was late autumn
evening was drawing near
fallen leaves were strewn
on the meadow-floor-

no words did we speak
nothing from life did we implore
how we wished we'd say no farewell
of each other we yearned for more-

here we are on this same old bench
so many tearful years had gone before
in the ripening of our love
new affections we still explore.

Life is at odds
with people
who cling to
their 'oughts'

The clown bears suffering
none would ever know
there's no cleansing
this departing-route I must follow

We can't be diminished
by any outside force
unless our essentiality we relinquish
or give up our moral cause

Walking alone
on life's shoreline
I owned the sea
in my mind--

the tides in rhythm
the swelling, the ebbing
the sighing, the moaning
while my heart is weeping

Looking in
  looking out
  the puzzle remains
  life is all doubt