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At the passing of the shark
the dolphins cried Hark!;

cute cuttlefish sighed Gee
there will be a serener sea
to its utmost periphery!
;

the dogfish barked,
so joyously!;

pink porpoises piped Whee!
excitedly,
delightedly.

But ...

Will there be as much glee
when there’s no you and me?
 

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Mountain Mist

The mist clings to me as I walk,
dotting my skin with gems of cold.
To left and right
there should be peaks and plunging valleys,
but I see nothing that I cannot touch.
Upon this open mountainside
the fog has made for me a private space,
a shrine of grass and soil and stones,
things barely noticed in the sun’s harsh stare.
There is a peace, an intimacy
but this is still a cage: my eyes
are trapped within a wall of white.
At least my ears are free: I shout my name
and seconds later, hear it back.
My voice reveals the spires of rock

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Hard Pill to Swallow

The days blur together,
As I try to pass time,
Misery loves company,
But I have none in mine.

As I sit here alone,
With ice for my pain,
All of this suffering,
With nothing to gain.

I think of a place,
Just down the road,
Where many find solace,
A temporary abode.

Comfort and warmth,
Sold in a bag,
Why say no,
When feeling this sad?

Setting ice aside,
As it no longer works,
I'm eager to feel,
Life's comforting Percs.

Peaceful and painless,
An end to life's race,
Ready to accept,
Life's last warm embrace.

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The Tale of the Seven

Last night, in the record library, I heard a strange song. It was strange because it told a story—a story about how seven men entered Glory Land. The first man was troubled by the night; it spoke to him. He entered Glory Land and understood how this struggle made him a unique writer. The second man's mind was a turbulent sea; it often travelled beyond borders. He entered Glory Land and realised that this turmoil made him a sought-after counsellor. The third man's emotions fluctuated, especially at night. He entered Glory Land and discovered that this made him a talented music composer.
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