Sorrow a fable;

This lesson in doubt–

Of spilt milk glass, over table,

         bursting out.

In this half empty vessel

My thoughts can but only half fill;

Fear, indecision and apathy wrestle

         For control of my will.

Tears in an ocean

Of tides over turn.

Undertow of shallow

         and deep self-concern..

These limbs time’s twisted

Patience solemn slowly wrought,

As if no straight lines existed

         In that dimension of knots.

It’s an ongoing friction,

An army of days in a war of time.

The hungry slaughter of conviction,

Once flesh is past its prime.

Winter 1987