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Solitude

All I ever wanted was a meal And a bed—a roof over my head (and perhaps a little wine or beer) I didn't really need anymore.

A good woman would have Been nice, I thought later on, To go along with the: beer and bed, Roof and a little wine you know.

Anyhow, I was always fine with a Small room, apartment: you identify: It was all I really needed; along With a pen in hand, and some paper;

Paper by my side to write my poetry, When I was sober enough to write: or Perhaps lonely: now with my new wife, Wine, beer—and of course that bed.

And of course: liberty, that thing We all went to war for way back when? Many times! Not sure how many friends Had to die for it, way back when.

That's all I ever really needed. Yes, oh yes Indeed: without a doubt, I have found my Soul's solitude in all this

#1204 2/12/06

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Ode to the: Lurking Ripples

Here, ripples the wind

Did the song of hell pass? The abyss-door was open

Something trampled in the

Grass…!

A shape, a shape—I see, —

Vivid as the veins in me; Evil lurks (sublimely)!

Dedicated to and inspired by Clark A. Smith, and George Sterling, after reading their many letters to each other. #1099 1/25-06