vicarious existence and survival…

 

true of most primates
including the human race
devouring babies
mothers eating their own young
as a source of nourishment

 

reunion without reconciliation…

 

your words
of
understanding
and
forgiveness
cannot
be heard
for
the distance
between
the two of you
is
greater
than ever before
oh
there was a time
when
perhaps
your words
might have
touched
the heart
but
now
your words
cannot
be
heard
nor
can
the tracing
of
your tears
be
followed
by
those gentle hands
no
your words
cannot be
heard
even tho
you stand
just
above
the grave

 

on the occasion of daybreak…

 

before my thoughts
have a chance
to merge
with
daily routines
i ponder
if
i should die
before
you wake
or
you should die
before
i
wake
how might
that day
and
those
days that follow
change
will
life’s beauty
still
be revealed
since
our love
is embedded
in
our hearts
and
tho
we shall be apart
what was
still is
for
we have shared
what others
only
dream of

 

fire prevention…

 

had to remove
the palm tree
we planted
some 20 years ago
it was
too close
to
the house
crowding it
in
the same way
that
lies
crowd out
the truth
and
it had become
a haven
for rats
seems that
rats
prefer
old
palm frond skirts
so
down it came
and
with it
the last memories
of
your youth

 

possession…

 

how many
night sounds
inhabit
your dreams
does
the coyote’s
lone call
stir you
from
an old lover’s arms
leaving you
alone
in
the darkness
or
does
the pine tree’s
breathing
in the wind
remind
you
of
those
last promises
as
you shared
the sacraments
of
love
for
one
final time
before
night sounds
became
your
only
companion