the ghost of the moon,
a sky of dark oaks,
its blacks deep cauldrons
breaking like twigs underfoot
its blacks tragic horizons
where the clouds stretch and dissolve.

They lie
under cover
of darkness
'neath blankets
of fear
and mistrust.
The distance
between them
immeasurable,
scant inches
apart.
Feigning sleep
and ignoring
silent tears.
Hands reaching
across an
ever widening
chasm,
but never
touching.
Souls searching
for each other
but never
meeting.
A night
spent together
while divided.
The loneliest
night.

ENEMIES

Should I say I have enemies
but rather
that others single me out
as such?
I don’t even know them
how could I?
they never said to me:
‘   You are my enemy’

and why me?
I am of no significance
not in the market-place
not the cynosure of others’ eyes
so few people
know that I exist

do I have the time
or bother
someone has targeted me
as an enemy?
Doesn’t that person
have better things to do?

but I don’t choose
to be the enemy of anyone
I have enough problem
of my own

only one enemy
I dread
lest it destroys me
that someone
is with me
every moment
all the time
day and night
it won’t let go of me
it clings worse than a leech
to my skin
it exhorts
challenges
teases
displeases
chides
blames
even pontificates
wanting to over-power me
in everything I do
trying to undo
what I count
to be dear to my heart
even threatens me
in anger
indignity
without a single straw of mercy

even in my sleep
it doesn’t leave me
it wants to haunt me
so that I would know no rest

I turn the corner to look
at that creature
my worst enemy
oh no
it CAN'T be true
that monster
is none other than
myself!

vincit qui se vincit

TO ALL POETS

Each of us is different
yet we are (bottom-line)
the same
true to self
that's what really  matters
words are the joys and tears of our heart
none can stop them--never, ever

Even in my seventh decade
enough remain:

impatience, ****, whiskey,
too many cigarettes,
lust (eternal and bright),
driving carelessly, laziness,
not being Buddhist enough,
preferring my own silence
to the chattering of humans
and others that come and go.

I once hoped to die pure,
but I know now these blemishes
will stick to me like true love
and follow me into the grave.

Such terminal devotion,
so rarely to be found
in this fickle world.

Friends to the end,
womb to tomb.