(untitled)#64

.

shepherding

the notes of a flute

just the wind

.

(untitled)#63

.

quick-silver runs

on the wave crest – the moon

crashes onto the beach

.

where once

my hairline now tumble

white whiskers

.

stealing silver

creeping out – behind a cloud

moon shadows fall

.

The Darker

Photograph of the Moon through Pine trees at night

the moon through pine trees

In the sun you do not see me,
standing where your shadow falls
In the night you cannot hear me
although in silence blackness calls.
In the darkness, see the starlight
not visible in day
and in the realm of opal moonlight
rest you – by the window stay.
A fool is what people would call me
a master of deceit and lie
as real as your blackest nightmares
only gentler come whistling by.
In the breeze my weak flame sputters
casting dark, on dark, the night:
but in the gloom can stand Рaphotic
so that you can see the light.

(untitled) #13

wanting nothing more

than to live a simple life

a pine tree – my cloud

Continue reading