my self : the muse


I close my heart each day

deathly afraid the madman

who shouts and dances

smiles at rain

and laughs –

(my god how he laughs!)

will come too much forever

and I will have to go



the weight of disallowance


and I cry back

not today

you can come again – tomorrow

and so will I

strangers knocking

love and stillness


knocking – down the hall

their rings

do trees count

their rings

and mourn

thick or thin

or measure what’s

leap’d ahead or

fallen behind

are they in a hurry

complaining if one year

it’s less or more

that day

if I had gone

that day

or maybe the next

and this wasn’t left


you and the rain

and frogs –

all singing

your acknowledgement;

would still be

here – with work to do