MAY 27TH 2016
POEM OF DAY
we dance alone to a settling Moon;
A stage of actors in deathly throes convulsing alone.
I have not been truthful to my moods.
I only know Love, but
with hideous garbs I make it poor.
Love, only love can still the nothingness
cloaking the Nights.
I dance, perhaps the last of a kind, who still wait in real, lonely but real love.