Night winds howled down from north canyon walls
blowing away sweet dreams from the sleepless
to some place beyond
- the opium dens of Paris
- the brothels of Bankok
- the underground jazz bars of Kerouac’s San Francisco
where the poets and philosophers rest in a tea stick haze.
Do these dreams of meaninglessness
travel to a far distant ancient Olympus
where grey eyed warrior Athena lives
with her snakes and owl of wisdom?
I rest alone in a vast desert of loneliness
in a fragrant copse of piñon and cedar
amongst the snakes and scorpions
who are my only friends and enemies.
A full fall equinox moon rises with cold light.
A wildcat screams from across the arroyo.