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Salmon Hallelujah

We could try it,
pretend we're salmon
going back to the place of
our birth, make love
(in human terms)
and die.

Nah, I'd rather live for awhile
meditating on the sand mandala
of life
before an unseen hand
sweeps it all away as if nothing
ever happened, as if the way
night falls can be forgotten
and the moon in her drunkenness,
falls from perpetual grace.

Last few words: 
A couple of nights ago, Barry and I watched a really uplifting flick called Salmon Fishing In The Yemen.
Editing stage: 


futility, never crossing the same river, it's all there,
a subtly profound write.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

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