Moonlight vision may well be

the precursor; electricity is gone now

and folks must write with the pen

that only sees a candle, friend,

or many, many candlepower
Moon is slower (duller) than

a candle but so what, my friend?

It lasts longer in the end

Who cares what is slower than

the what; the by is by the way

Moonlight brings us into day

                     
                    
Go I Go

As the breeze bequests becalmed seas

though other May of trees could come,
though not a day for breeze or feel its worth

Will it come to pass in present tenz

Look forward angel to

a better way of see where I am reaching

Not strife but ghostly barricade

Not something front or hind me

but grate through torpor visions dreamy

A space through which it sees

(and breeze as if I trembled through the ever trees)

Though throngs of insects bending in bow language

they’re not how (nor are they wow)

Hidden in dark caves

much tend to dwindle well and trying

(dwindled well and well, worn down to acquiescense

and what I say is silent, breeze

but not affect the movement of the ever-sailing trees)

(through cities very much resembling old PA)

Though broad not road; though big, just vague

To find a course through quicksand

torpor dreamy, go I go

I must not show the care but simply pay where

pay is due. Not me I go and

walk with baited shoe

Is this I what was asked to do?