Reflect on It Like Wilde

Some say darkness is never complete, that 
It needs some light to make it into a whole. 

One could spend an entire lifetime 
Parsing this conundrum. 

It would be like putting yourself in a coma 
Most of the time and the rest trying 

To take yourself out. 

Lupine

A full moon. 

The call of wolfhounds 
Echoing in the night, waiting 

To hear the shadow 
Of their former selves 

Looming in the light. 

You Asked for It

When nothing keeps 
Coming through the door 

When least expected, 
Nothing more. 

In Passing, Simply Fantastic

A poem should be 
A medium, let’s say 
A vehicle 

To spirit us away 
To another world 
Without us knowing it, 

Just like a hearse. 

Survival of the Fittest

Some call it poetic justice— 
How fitting it is indeed that 

The most vocal of creatures remain 
Dumbstruck by the babbling of beasts.