Tiny invaders

Imps that serve your

Fears on a platter

What most disturbs

Brought near 

With quiet efficiency

Unless an angel of the mind

Drive them out

The real question is not

To be or not to be--

The question

Is how to be if

To be leads inexorably to not be--

To question if cessation is proper

Suggests infinite time--

But cessation is already there

Waiting

Slings and arrows, fardels,

They all disappear like a cloud

As if never there

Along with you

It's that thing about dying

It takes care of itself 

And everything else.

]

For those interested, an instagram page: playwrightskarlan.

This strange lassitude

A seductive somnolence

Where you fall off

Into lost days

With unfinished dreams

And the sound of rain

Portrait of a Lady (after Van der Weyden)

Her eyes steadily gazing

Past history, past death

Her features set 

In calm determination

Her fingers modestly clasping

For eternity

It is a noble art that imparts

Such tranquility to existence

The bold squirrel

Desperate for food

Gnaws at your bag

In belief that food is hidden

Not surprising that manners go

When hunger is severe

Body heavy

Drifting into sleep

The clouds are pillows

The earth your bed

Fatigue imposed by life

From rage and fear