It was two thousand and ten
A minute ago
And now the year
of the deadly virus
ten years hence

Like a dream -

A decade passes
Like waves crashing on
The shore

And I hibernate in
The visions of yesteryear
Picking out my psychic
Territory

A hermit?
Oh! No!
A Saint in hiding

Something then nothing -
A parrot on my left shoulder
But it is not real

I wait in time
Like an ornamental vase
Sitting on the dusty shelf

When I think of writing poetry
I think of Sylvia Plath
And W.B. Yeats

Of Ted Hughes
And Frida Kahlo
And Picasso…

When we were…
and then again…
and so forth…

Hummingbirds
Llamas, and more llamas
And ever more birds…

Creatures of every variety
When the sun rises on this
Vast river of life

Harmony justifies…
The onward march of time
The warblers and dragonflies
The ants and twinspots

We are not just forgetful
We write poetry about
The forgotten…
Harmony justifies!

And so sullen
I was at daybreak
And so enchanted
I was at dusk

Note well
For this is my time to be who I am
And the danger of looking backward
Is at an end

Don’t harp on about
Alligators, and poisonous lizards
For we are free to be,
Just be

Asterisk, mark my place
And untold stories
Be ******
In the un-telling

In between the twilight
And the breaking of dawn
I hide in the shadows of
night

Robin Goodfellow
Does all his work at
night

Robin, also known as Puck -
is my alter-ego -
A figure of the shadows
And farmhouses

And as the new dawn breaks
I disappear
Like a vampire dies