LOOKING BACK- Puerta La Cruz, Venezuela 1979 I walked today on a sea-swept shore And thought , "How quickly died the trace Of those who here have come before." Then, looking back, I saw the place My tracks had been, but were no more. And so, it seemed, had passed the years Without a trace of me behind To mark the memory of my tears Or ease regrets that filled my mind. I moved on, further up the beach But, taking care to put my feet Where only few of the waves could reach. Then, on a stone I took my seat. As my tracks dissolved I studied each. And so, at last, it came to me- The fallacy of looking back For sights I nevermore will see. Then, from a sense of loss or lack I watched my tracks wash out to sea.

RIVER OF BONES- Dust and no water nor breath To bring life where only the dead Tell their old stories-how they rest Quiet in their hidden flesh- truth Praised in the empty sockets blessed With the final opening of eyes-limbs Scattered in a last unanswered prayer Wait to be found and forgotten there- Glisten for a moment til the light dims On another century, pretending to care.

NOVEMBER SKIES- For me there is no better season, No better time, no better reason- Nightwalking ere the first snow flies Forgotten under November skies. To look down silent empty lanes On darkened houses with frosted panes And discover a friendship with flickering lights; To feel lost and abandoned, alone in the night; To willfully stray from the path that I follow Past orchards and fields, to the edge of a hollow Just to touch the dark waters and stones in the stream And to listen and watch, and remember and dream; I dream of the lives other people are making And the joy in the journey that's theirs for the taking- Let the moon and the mountains shine in my eyes, Alone and forgotten neath November skies.