Above the Light

Through the warm jet stream
Of an old kerosene lamp
Walls become curtains.

Young Heart

I hope 
   I will still
be enjoying
      the thrill
   of wielding
a finger
   to smear 
            smiles
     that linger
  on chilled
     window panes
in my 
   sixties 

Striving

I don't crave being different
   or part of a craze 
      but to purge
       my indifference

 escape
    from the maze
of shallow partitions
     that channel 
       |my soul|
between greed
     and ambition 
along rails of false hope
   toward a destiny

                          (   void   )

of love-rooted meaning 
     where regret
      in hindsight
             will 

   /\/\/\  burn /\/\/\ 
in the twilight 
      of a life spent 

striving
         with me