Poems written by me in a former century

this poet’s mind
is like a sponge
it’s empty
under pressure

1967-04-01

when I feel your hands
sweep over me
when I feel you, warm
against me
when I hear you
whispering
I love you
the dream becomes reality
reality, a dream
for just a
moment

1967-06-27

moon beyond the clouds
placed in its path by cold winds
winter’s thin-blown shroud

1967

Vision clouded, noise drifts in
to fill my picture of the world.
The drinks I’ve had don’t isolate,
but merely shift the focus to the sounds…
less easily avoided than the sight.

If I were sober, now,
I’d shut it out—that senseless murmuring
but here I sit, inertia-bound
and listen vainly
for the echoes of my mind.

1970-04-18