“To touch great loneliness
is to be lonely”
or so they think

“Such things rub off in ruin”
so they say

Or does fear think at all?

Avoidance of approval's wince
Reading shadows wrong

as startled, leaping splotches
scatter-flat
Then drool down walls
in wakeful pools
Relief dissolved
in wee-hours black

Missing life at the threat....

As if there were somewhere else to be!

The knowing of it all would be the curse
Except for carving little hopes from realish dreams

Where once the mourning woman felt
the treasured, fearless touch of one
who laid his sorrow 'cross her knees

Forgetting all-- but love

Nothing more to do when all is lost
But watch the birds and buds emerge
by swollen streams

But speak your mind
But wait and see