1
Moon in Tiffany setting with gypsy lights
And girdle of gold opalescence,
But rarely like this, cupped in cloud-stone,
Out of dark velvet night
This earthshine of all beauty;
Altered stone, at the angle of incidence,
Basalt glazed and ringed in space
With a lustre priceless and enduring,
Because in minimum of magnitude
All star-points gleam alike,
And time is richer by one jeweled night.

2
Shadows at full moon are deeper than meanings.
They embody fullness, erase space,
Build mass and edifice in mind and place.
The mystery behind history, opposing peripheries,
These silhouettes of branches and trees,
A phantom nursery, lunar forest,
Buried trees swimming up from the subsoil
As though through a lake of black glass.
Earth in earth, universe in universe,
Branches rupturing the stars
And we, fortunate to walk among them.

In the Arab gardens of Sicily water guides you to paradise and order to hypocrisy.

Only in this sun can you weigh the shadow of a pomegranate to the ripeness within.

The Christian mosaics are the skies inside Palermo. Once there was a miracle. An evil monk was struck in the head and killed by a small piece of heaven.

Why are there so many miserable old men holding on to poetic reputations?

As for my own poems, they will return to the earth…

A King risks assassination if he doesn’t, in some instances, allow himself to appear easily persuaded.

Deeds should be the leaves of a beautiful world and words the fruits of a life worth living.

             for Alan Blind Owl Wilson

I’m going up to music mountain
Where all my friends have gone,
Where the air is pine-scented
And you’re high all the time.

They say the mountain is tuneful,
You can hear the fire of the sun,
And at night the humming stars
And beyond them, God’s blues harp.