fresh morning dew drop,
suspended like a planet,
appeared over night,

The foundations are first to go
in a collapse of brick not known in this lifetime,
only that long ago,
though many people will try to reason it in rhyme.

We used to knock bottles off walls
throwing cancer and heart attacks
to watch the glass shatter
and fall,
break into jigsaw pieces on the floor

and now,

we weep into cups so not
to ruin the carpets the deceased gave us
and gave up.
Turkish yarn and rugs from town
and never knowing quality when we see it.

An idiot makes the same mistake twice.*

That "fatherly advice" is trapped
within my head,
bouncing back and forth,
causing a headache,
but who's to say that
the mistake isn't the cause
of pulsating temples and closed eyes.
In one ear and out the other,
one could hope for.
But these days it's in
one nostril and down the throat.
Down "****'s Creek" in a soluble boat.

But don't call home.
The heart left.
The telephone has been off the hook--
inanimate objects have it easy.

Creating a moon, pale, soft and melancholy
with words, bleeding wounds, trembling with pain,
putting it up above the dark clouds, on a lonely sky
and make it reflect in water, turbulent and agitating,
so that you would see my anguished soul in flames,
wasn't easy, it took long sleepless nights and wasted days.
Did you understand this; then what did I get?

Am I a wanderer as they made out, or the opposite, a lonely seeker?
Wasn't I trying to look at life, putting aside all pretensions,
being simple and becoming aware as one,
who has no control over anything, that happens in life
except, knowing myself, to be in touch with things
hidden from us all through the walk,
**over the cantilever bridge we walk on
jutting in to the sea, with only the other end fixed,
as we walk forward to a gap opening to the waves
that roll below, I look above at the galaxies and smile,
I realize, the purpose of this run is to swim,
across the cosmic ocean,  to be one with the limitless.