Desolate My People Go

The world is dreariness today
The whole dang town seems haunted:
It’s very cold and gray outside
And that’s just how I want it

I like the feeling that I have
That nature doesn’t care;
Beneath the dull immensity
That I’m just barely there

The world is large and heartless,
And is deaf to our demands:
This cold indifference spreads across
All peoples in all lands

And desolate my people go
Behind their walls of stone:
There is no earthly paradise
We’re all
The hell

(“Desolate My People Go” – 12/31/2014)

Frost Lines

The lines of frost.

The lines of frost across the leaves
Now deep within my face

And whence the once-brown hair had grown
The frost now takes its place

From Autumn into Winter comes
A chill that changes things

Beneath the dying leaves and frost
A seed
Of new life

Winter Walk

It’s a lot to think about…

The ancient farming sweep ahead she sees,
While on her winter walk she makes her way;
The world is weak and wracked with some disease,
And dressed, as though in mourning, all in gray

The winter wind is whistling and bare,
Her heart is heavy with a load of care;
The steps she takes, somehow, are lightening
The burden, making things less frightening

The farmers, once, who tilled this barren land
Knew winters such as this, but still survived;
Some barely made it, others fairly thrived
And saw the verdant spring born close-at-hand

She walks, and feels inside, a life sublime;
The miracle who’ll come in summertime


All movement has ceased.

Out here on the Interstate
All movement seems to cease:
I’ve listened to most every part
Of Tolstoy’s “War and Peace”.

And Audible dot com should make
A killing here today —
Downloading now: the complete Proust
And all of Rabelais.

I’ll do the commentaries then
Of Ramban and Jerome:
And might do the Upanishads
I make it