Two

Life --
the whole
daft enterprise
subject to
the wiles
of chance --

who will care
for thee when
there is no
more of me

"Better"

"better"
is
the
last
word
uttered
by
a
dying
fool

Dickinson

her nuanced sounds
dance like diamonds
shimmering on moonlit
water glistening with
a thousand stars
shattering brilliance into
shards sparkling on
a rippling velvet
curtain drawn over
perpetual night

A Writer

a writer
is an
arse
upon which
every scribe
has sat
except a
soul

Threes

we know
what cannot
be told

that alone
is enough

each day
a new sensation
today
facing gray

what remains unanswered
is always why
not how
or when

Listen

to see
is to
know

to listen
is to
sense

the essence
of
silence

I Am

I am
as I came
a guest
not a ‘name’
an acolyte
not a master
a mystery
to many
a fool
to most
a gray
solitary
ghost