The Ill Effect of Solitude — a poem

Beware! Again I say, Beware!
Not the teeth; my teeth are not set
for thee.

And fear not to look into my eyes,
for I always glance askance. Shy
I appear.

My muscle, sinew, and tendon
are not that alone which will bring
you down.

I am alone. I run with no pack.

A sickness has separated me;
a disease most deadly —
not of my body…

of my wolf spirit.


* * *


For The Sunday Muse.

Downstream, upstream…. — a poem

image by Charley

Downstream, upstream,
Regal, Bayliner, pontoon, tri-hull,
pontoon, fisher, Bayliner pulling
an inflatable raft, children screaming,
kayaks, pontoon floating bar scene.
Jet skis racing.
A Cigarette boat slows
and turns back downstream.
The river churns.

On the bluff I feel
the agitation of the river —
the flow impeded.
Like the stream, I am
My life a recreation
of others.

Trumpeter Swans desert,
in unison they search
for peace. Eagles, shaken
by chaos, return no more.
No shore birds wade
where there is no calm.


* * *

“We’re only trying to get us some peace”

— Lennon/McCartney