Citrus Grove in Moonlight

under odorous 
lemon trees 
bearing pendant 

globes of gibbous 
moons shining
overhead. 

Wanting Mainstream Spirit

Taking stock of it at the start 
Of one more “soul-searching” session, 
He discovered “rich” was not what 
He wanted it to be after all, 

But he did not want it 
To be poor either; 
He desired neither 
The one nor the other— 

Clearly muddled 
In the middle, his was a singular 
Commodity of two minds, 
Both mediocre. 

Surfeit of Naught

Replete with nothing 
But that which is 

Missing, ciphers 
Spend their entire lives 

Filling in the blanks. 

Supplicants in Garden of Eden

Once you were merely two 
Blithe creatures who thought 
How happy they were before 
The fact without bothering 
The gods for an explanation; 
Losing your grip, now you’re 
But two creatures who know 
There is no explanation. 

. 

(Parenthesis)

Such is the lot 
Of the lowly 
Sloth that hangs 

On high from branches back 
Downward and falls fast 
Asleep, feeding on nothing 

But fruits and leaves. 

Wishful Thinking

Still a young boy, 
I’d spend hours teaching 
My puppy new tricks— 

Now too old to learn anything 
New and old Fido long gone 
To doggy heaven, sure 

Wish I knew how 
He learned how 
To play dead.