Christmas 1998


Erasing from your net of nerves
all distractions of despair and stress
can be as effortless as spouting
roses from your finger tips.

Life’s just a trick the boxer said, a sleight
of thought, a nimble here and there, easy as kids can make
skipping seem like flying.
Old age boring through your life

cannot compete with happy bafflements
spinning lilacs from the snow, even the animal
sadness of being hated, the dizzy sweats of a life
you love and cannot help, that tips you over day after day,

cannot compete with the alchemy of chance that makes
the mortality of every moment so much more than enough.

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