Fifty Seven

I won’t go to watch the sunset
I did that once before
I won’t visit the hundred-acre wood
Nor find out the latest score

I will write, I will sleep
I will sleep, I will be
I will read, I will write
I will shape up as if to keep

I did sleep, I did wake
I did dream, I did wake
I did sleep, I did wake
I did dream, it was no mistake

The light is here early
The light is here strong
I don’t know what the dreams mean
Yet they were clear, they did belong

I did write of the young man
Alone on the train
I did write of his young love
Together again, still the same

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Fifty Six

I question myself because
I question myself, because
I have doubts, because
Why else am I here, why do I

Feel uneasy; not yet welcome
In myself, not in my body, not
In my mind, not yet introduced
To my own new found freedoms

So, still it seems, I remain trapped
Why choose this place, of intense
Personal exhaustion, to follow
A path penetrated by my own

Illness, my own weakness
My own unachievable desires
My own, distinctly-indistinct deceptions
Where else could I be at this precious time

In my life, where to see the logic, the line
Where to find the sea, as I wonder how to be
Here now to find the love, to find a lover’s sign
Here to prosper, just beyond the base design

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Fifty Five

I am that young soul
Among the old soul
I am that full life
Among the half-life

I am that lover
Among the good love
I am here to rediscover
Among the undercover

I am that leaf in the fall
That leaf of a still silent call
I am that there thief in this here way
That thief for whom silence comes to pray

I am that white cloud
In the mostly blue sky shroud
I am that freedom found
That freedom to walk on solid ground

I am that paddler in the stream
The paddler with the lucid dream
I am that escapist from the seam
Escaping to where or when I seem

I am that certainty of moments
Certain in almost all of the moments
I am that old man growing older
I am that bright light, the one-time foot soldier

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Fifty Four

This room is not so sad
As that of the previous verses
The light here is clearer
The time here holds more truth than love

What I seek is of creation
Yet not yet turned to words
What I seek out is regeneration
Yet not from the stasis of the broken man

That I am here now does say
That the moon, the stars, the sun
The love, the lust; they have all conspired
To play their part in my growth

These grounds, these buildings
Now carry way less melancholy
They offer hope, they exude a brightness
A sure sign that the love of life belongs here

What I sought here before
May have been based on recrimination
Of myself, for at least from one other
I thought I deserved a detailed explanation

That I was here, does show
That I was in need of help
The generous words, the actions, the people
They all played their incredibly supportive part

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Fifty Three

Is this the place
You made your own
Is this the only option
That you were offered

Are your words worth more
Or are they more needy
Do you require silk or velvet
To remember more cushioned times

For mostly what we read from you
Are of good times, better times
Sensual times, sexual times
Music in the musk of love times

We neither ask, nor seek apology
For we too are fond of skin on skin
Of bare, sun-tanned bellies
Of thighs wantonly straddling thighs

Why would you not recreate such worlds
If that were in any way possible
Or, as is surely more likely in your case
The only pathway that one is able to follow

Yet one ought to be aware, to be beware
That in the giddiness, in the richness, of this
Famously, fabulously, hot summer, the inviting
Open breasted blouse comes at quite a price

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