should she have
thrown her wish at the stars
or down a well?

her hair in cigar smoke ringlets
her eyes were the guinness
the journey, her passion
the boy, her poison
the liffey winked with antidotes

black glass with white lights
why do rivers mock the sky?

her hair in her vision
her voice in a bird cage
a swan on a sailboat
not a soul on the ferry

on another coast
amid the day before
and the one that followed
seafoam clashed with clouds
came full circle
as her favorite dead end

she raised
then rolled
her eyes

blue waves with gray wisps
why do skies mock the river?

she didn't go over
nor to the end
she just went against the grain
of the rainbow
only she could spot

and then
she stuffed her hands into her pockets
and
she threw her wish
away

One day, said the dying man,
Your empire will lay in ruins
And your very language will be dead.

You lie!
Shouted the soldier,
Stabbing upwards with his spear.

it seems the moon
won't say
goodnight

it lingers in the pale
blue sky of morning

sometimes round
and bold
sometimes a crescent
bowed
in shyness

an observer
it gazes quietly
the observed
it bares its soul

today
even as it fades
I try to read
its fullness

what can it tell
me?
in the lines
of its face
will I read the names
of others
who have watched
in wonder
its fading
then returning?

are the curves
and crests
an ancient flowing
hand
that gathered
history?

will I find life's answers
there?

or

has the moon
simply
written
to say
goodnight

I asked the robin who
crumpled orange and olive-brown
lay motionless
in my path today

no answer

I asked the mockingbird
whose repeating hymn
attended my steps

no answer

I asked the gull
swooping overhead
slicing the ashen sky

no answer

Seeing it coming
do birds rush headlong
and proud
to meet it?

do they drop
from the heavens
in mid-flight
swirling in a ballet
like a golden autumn leaf?

do they stop
mid-song
as melody echoes
in their throat?

having achieved
their ultimate note
their aria bursting
through the heights
making the clouds shiver

do they quietly close
their tiny eyes of onyx
to dream an eternal dream of song
an infinite fantasy of flight?

I wonder...

how do birds die?

I guess it's
Been four years now
She turned up here homeless
She was old
Even then
Those used teats
The grey on her jowl
Lonely. So loving.
She's followed me
Like my shadow
Ever since
And don't believe
A dog can't smile
In my absences
She'll sit by the door
Until I come back
I'm 60 now.
Just had a birthday.
And this black Labrador
Beauty gave me the honor
Of crawling up next
To me as I went to sleep
She rarely has done before.
And it made me wonder
How I want to die before her
I don't think I could stand
Losing her
But thought
Of what would happen
To her
If I went before
And this isn't poetry
It's a love story
About two lonely orphans
Who found someone
Who loves them more
Than life itself
And how
Much love
Can mean