They say that only man
can know of death-
but you, old dog, you knew

the pain within your eyes
would mingle with the sadness
in our own. How tactful

was the vet, as her tender needle
probed your shaved flesh.
A final shudder of your lungs,

then all was still. No more
lusting after scruffy *******,
no more fetch the ball,

no more flying disc, ragged from
your teeth, no more the eager whine
when we arrive. Perhaps someday

we will be as strong and true
to life as you have been
to the death that took

your pain away
and left us longing
for your furry love.

The man-god stands apart,
burnishing his youth.

The sword he clutches drips
with gore more green than red.

The sisters hover round
her broken frame and murmur,

Pity, pity. Their tresses hiss
and snarl, coiling, writhing,

coiling, writhing. Her serpents
lap her clotting blood. Her sisters

stretch their leather wings
and fly to purge the bitter gall

of their revenge, singing,
Sorry sister, Better you than us.

frosted autumn moon
shining in the bottom
of my saki cup

It smells of dead smoke and stale beer.
A faded barfly warms an ancient stool.
Her cigarette stabs at stale air.
The sax man solos. He's cute, she thinks.
He plays a lick, leers at her, and winks.

the old man naps
sudden snore erupts
startled child cries out

I let my cat outside the other day
(or perhaps he escaped- I don't recall)
he stayed away all night and day

then he returned- his freedom spent
with a furry present- a small brown
victim clenched within his jaws

he dropped the thing at my feet
at first the mouse was still
then fear took hold as it ran

the beast pounced and seized and released
eager paws batted prey to and fro
then the final act- the curtain drawn

and as I watched I could not help but think
how kind of cat and mouse
to play and die for our amusement

In the valley of forever
where yesterday once ruled
we walked in hand together
in country spare and cruel.

I let the child within myself
embrace another's heart
but soon I found myself deceived
alone, and more apart.

The soul that yearns for solace
seeks another place and time
a place where truth and righteousness
are king and queen in mind.

Such journeys are but simple paths
bestrewn with bitter roses
that pressed within an ancient book
once opened, never closes.