When you left
you took the sun
with you;
now the moon
rules me.
I wax and wane
and sometimes
vanish altogether.
Where do I go
when I disappear?
To seek the sun,
of course.
- mce
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Merely a holding cell for journal entries, wry observations, attempted witticisms, poems and random aphorisms. Sense of humor required. This is poetry, NOT biography. Please do not call 911, stage an intervention or suggest AA. Everyone deserves their own death, allow me mine. Tentative conclusions encouraged. Advice ignored. Absolute truths not welcome. Enlightenment unlikely. Play on.
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