They are alone together

They are alone together

she has a gaping hole

in her life

he cannot fill

they are alone together

he has an empty space

inside him

that she cannot fill

they are alone together

after a lifetime

perhaps nothing can fill

this void

they are alone together


I was looking through some of my oldest work when I came across this haiku, written in 1967. Yeah, I’m that old….I changed a couple words……thought I’d put it out there

Floating high above

ground, hungry clouds watch lightning

eat the troubled air

In between

In between raising your hand

with fingers of desire

and the moment of its grasp

there echoes the abyss

of all the timeless moments

you reached for your future

in that blink in time

over and over

did you taste the fruit

with the touch of skin

or did the pinch of pleasure


before your dreaming eyes

conceived the next attempt

to fill the empty crater

of your longing

The flowers of acceptance

He rarely asked

the flowers of acceptance

to bloom in the dry desert

of his mouth

he could not speak

the nourishing words

while desire’s many colours

walked the pathways

of his search in solitude

and finally crack open

the cloudless internal sky

of his love

Being one with everything

I wanted to be one with everything

but I fell asleep on the couch

I wanted to be one with the living room

but I bumped into the footstool

walking across the room in the dark

that’s a problem when you’re sixty eight

I tried being one with the house

but I had to go to the bathroom

I tried being one with the bathroom

but my leg went numb

I wanted to be one with my body

but I had pain in my lower back

okay now I’m one with everything

even you

Your words

Your words bounced off 

the goal posts in my eyes

the referee missed the call

and they landed in the whirlpool

of contained confusion

no matter how they wriggled

they could not escape

the meaning

they never meant to give

the blind and deaf

had no relief


The gifts received

were never sent

they grew within the source

of what they meant


I live within a feast

of air and time

where no one knows

the falling of my climb


shadows dance on rusted walls

to celebrate the names

of flickering images

in lines of candle flames


when the inner sky has cracked

and the light implodes

I’ll know the beginning

and the loving end of roads