How About A Poem

Something of beauty
in its sounds,
in its images.

Profound
in its meanings,
in its insights.

Evocative
of deep feeling,
of soul-searching.

A touch of melancholy
for the melancholy man.

Earnest,
concerned,

AND FATALLY FLAWED.

Intent on telling the tales
of the saint who grassed
to the secret police
on his father's politics,

and the angel
in the bar of Heaven,
masturbating.

Untitled (first of four short poems)

I love the darkness.
Darkness is the light
by which I see my dreams.

Viewpoint

You look along the planes
of your life, backwards
and forwards, seeing
its contours, fitting
the pieces together
in elevation.

See it from above
looking downwards
at the plan, seeing
it all of a piece,
a piece perhaps
in another's jigsaw.