Putting some poems out there.

He said, “My life is played out,

Visions from a Magic Lantern.

Ghosts, they are

Insubstantial as desert rain.”

“What do you see, as they slip by?

Do you grasp at love?”

She said. (Knowing his heart

By touch.)

“Oh, they are specters

To me, they squirm

And prattle nonsense.”

He said, and clasped

His hands, as if in prayer.

“Am I not there?” she asked,

“Ensconced in dreamy


“Yes,” he said, “you are the star

In my Cardinal sign.

You are the Moon

In my second House.

You are my folio,

Redletter words written

On my heart.”



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