I imagine a dense network of tunnels;        
malleable, hollow tubes narrowing        
then swelling - breathing a complex        
language beyond my comprehension.              
  
The synchrony is beautiful        
and I long to understand it.      
  

serenade saffron
dazzle damp darkness
duct in concentrated concession
braiding on sea-mollusc shore wise
the dawn dreams with seance
by groove that ply breath tendril
tender dew fresh easiness oiled
sebaceous soft sweating
youthful glands baptizing flowers
synthetic to foretaste chill oceans
lit green gulls morn Mediterranean
not mourn ignition timorous
of potent heartbeats death-row
convent flag twine shifting impulse
from barometer of illusions elasticity
like when clouds thresh hold

I have walked in days just gone by,
that threw all sorts of shadows at my feet.
The sun felt cool as did the world,
was this all my feelings now that it was getting cool.

Why did the others that held my hand in times gone by,
leave me in this time,
I wonder why.

So it came to me as I looked around,
at the long shadows on the ground.
That most of them were cast,
by the things that were behind me.
This made the path ahead shine with hope,
that I could once again see.

When most are warm in bed at night
I've walked the woods in pale moon light
while whippoorwills sang their sad song
and geese honked in a midnight flight.

Some might think such trips are wrong,
the shadows being much too strong
and conceal things sane men fear
in a world where people don't belong.

I wonder if they have been here
in dark forests with no home near
when breezes turn tree limbs to arms
and things are not as they appear.