A Brief Meeting at Night or Perhaps Morning

She rises before the sun
before I have gone to bed.

My headlights catch her looking upset
something like undead,
As if momentum at some point
will take her body further than her feet
and with the failure of every joint
would accept defeat
at the base of the man-made wall of stones
from whose cracks grows plants still living.

As the car passes I can hear her bones;
the torture that her body has been giving
causes them to cry over the engine.

She disappears like all things into the rear view mirror
A list of objects that appear closer than they really are.
Far enough away to be imagined.
But still too close to be forgotten.

Perhaps she was a dream, or a ghost, or an illusion
It has been too long without sleep to tell the difference.
I am still sixty years from home.
The car rocks in unpaved silence.
I started my trip over 20 years ago
Perhaps only to experience this moment
the sun rises over the forest.
It will go like all things and I will wonder
if it was anything more than  a ghost, or an illusion, or a dream.

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Moonglade

Mirror in the sky,
forever barren,
passing us by
Foot prints like
sandscrit on your side.
Your face shows the sun,
forever outshown,
light from a gun
your image on a lake
doesn’t take our attention.
Reflection on the fly
we see our face
a million miles wide
you look the same
as the flame in a woman’s eye.

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A Park, the Night After She Left

In the sky a new moon arises
Above the darkness it despises
Shinning light on what shadows take
Leaving silent answers in its wake
And all other sorts of surprises. 

Gently tip toe down a moonlit pathway
Where darkness was now shadows lay
Rearing their ugly head from off the floor,
Staring at the moon which they adore
They hope it never goes away. 

Ephemeral ghosts, bound to the pathway
Taking the shape of those who stay,
Jealously spy what moon light makes
Images dancing on the surface of lakes
While here on pavement the shadows lay. 

Each shadow attached to the toe
Of a stranger it does not know
Sufferers of the moons hypnosis
Dying a determined symbiosis
Basking in the moon’s glow. 

Orb of heaven floats in the sky
Graces all as it passes by
But at its tale the sun arises
Bringing a new day of surprises.

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My Homeland: The Homeland of the Homeless

Green fields extend like curiosity
Rolling like infinity
To only be interupted by a single tree
Whose knotted limbs hold its fruit
as high as knowledge
Out of the reach of you and me.

Winter hits the ground like publicity
Falling with equality
at the base of the living tree
In the horizon the hills rise
as close to the sky as dreams
Too lofty for you or me.

When the leaves are as red as fidelity
To match the sky’s sobriety
and the fruit falls from the forbidden tree
whose knotted limbs now hold the emptiness
of a dead man’s eyes –
Its treasures given to you and me.

A summer night is blank with obscurity
Consumed by freedom and purity
Nothing but a black hole and the tree
Who shadowless stands
In the starless night
Too dark for you and me.

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