Sleeping sickness
Taking hold
In the grinding afternoon
When recourse is to
Turn inward
The place of silence
Warmth and rest
Your eyes close
And your head tilts back
You barely hear the knock
On your door
It is so far away
Addictive, this sleep,
This false womb
Without birth

An evil edict whispered
By those wrapped in night
That there be darkness
Where riot is rule
And discourse is war
Human sacrifice made on a dark altar
With blood streaming
Over a scorched earth

In the thrall of night
When darkness breeds desire
You are drawn to the glow
Of the computer
And its false promise
Of fulfillment
Insincere words
Of assignation
Fill the screen
In the silence and stillness
Of night
While under its spell

Note, Scribe,
And deliver through
The portals of the internet
The dark, clouded message
To the shaved heads,
And the flesh tattooed like a snake,
Beguiled by the hermaphrodite
With hidden knowledge

Waiting for the white pigeon--
Suddenly you're the old man
In the corner booth
The type you looked at
When you were young
The world is tilting
You're dizzy when you punch
Fear of fear
Despairing at despair
Ensnared in the black magic
Of the mind
Shocked at seeing how deep it goes
Like the face of Michelangelo's
Doomed man
Stunned with one hand covering an eye
Betokening the abyss
Then seeing your face in the mirror
Of the corner booth
Recoiling, praying,
Alone, waiting for the bird
To descend

Night, the cover of sin
The birth of treachery and deceit
The deep space of the universe
The flavor of a lover's lies
The instigator of dreams
The womb of nightmares
The time of the bat and owl
The sleep of doves
The congregation of whores
The mystery with a hidden name
The realm of spirits
The attitude of negation
The escape into sleep
The void of nothingness

Up on Cold Mountain (after Han Shan)

The narrow road
To the snow peak
Harder with each step
The chill in the wind
Slowing you
Birds taking to the sky
At the sound of your approach
Alone, not even a monkey
To give you brief company

Time has no power in dreams
In the pool just below the surface
The past is present
You are young again
With those long gone
Though not gone
But waiting below
Ready to emerge

Something snub nosed

Intrudes itself

Like the face

Of a bat

Circling the head

Of a dreamer

It is silent, hovering

At the edge of sleep,

Fostering illusions 

Mantis Religiosa

It is hidden
Green on green
Morphed into a leaf
Concealing its alien shape
The triangular head
That can rotate
Up and down
Its attitude of praying
While preying on
The unsuspecting
Its enormous eyes
All encompassing
Even if desire
Makes it lose its head
It presses on
With the work it must do
Seizing with its rapid hooks
And claws
It's not there till you see it
If you do

A tooth fell out
And the clouds
Rolled with thunder
You dreamed of tilting streets
And old buildings
With dark windows
And saw the ancient park
Its tortuous path
Winding into night

Who is more vulnerable
Than a dreamer?
Passive in the grip
Of sleep
Open to visions
Not summoned
Demonic or beatific
Making the mind
Question
The world of day

The arrow knows its target
When the bow lets it release

A window full of day
An effulgent ray
Streaming with light
Illumination canceling the night
A promise made, a vow understood
A gift for entrusting -- if you could
Relax the mind
To trust, then find

The favored rifle
Merging with the dark
Helicopters patrolling
With engines rumbling
Lights searching
Under a white moon
Revenge is what is left
When there is nothing
A dish of cold morsels
Never satisfying
The ravenous hunger 
For the false poetry of violence

The mist at twilight
Only the sound of birds
Here and there

It is a blind hole
That you pursue
And pursues you

Quite overwhelming
The vacuous cloudless sky
Without any birds

In the Aviary

The first thing you notice
Is the transparent roof
That lets in the sun
It does not need to prevent escape
Since the low flying birds
Glide unimpeded
Making their circles
Within the netted enclosure

Birds sit on rocky ledges
Staring, waiting
Other birds swim in the pool
Singly or in pairs
The space is full of squawks and cries
Reaching the sunlit top
The birds on the ledges scan
Looking, looking

Time is running out

Schopenhauer-
Renunciation of the will
To live
A turning of the ding an sich
Flowers fall to the left
And to the right
Birds arc away
Clouds are still
In gray light

The garden is empty

The lingering, festering
Wound
That leads to death
The wound from the bite
Of blood-soaked jaws
The wound that cannot heal
On its own
But requires a physician
Of paramount art
To root out all infection

When you were in distress
A crow came to adopt you
It hovered by your window
And swept across fields
Keeping you in its sharp bird’s eyes
Warding off enemies
Real and potential
It watched your every move
With the promise of protection--
A fantasy, a dream,
When you were alone
And in distress

Fall Risk

Everything that can fall
Will fall
When given the right
Opportunity
The sheer weight
Of gravity
And accumulated time
Presses down
Objects turn end over end
Papers scatter fluttering
In the air
The weight of memory
And emotion
Unsteadies the legs
As you move forward
On the broken road