Poet’s Eternity

All poems dwell in paradise
when able Muse makes use
of a mindless hand, mere prop
for a borrowed pen.

There’s no fallow ground for a seed
conceived as such and sown
when  once blind eyes are opened
in epiphany.

Hill or vale, the poet summons
alchemy and sets out
to drain wells with a thimble,
thus a poem is born

to dwell in paradise forever,
while the poet, caught up
in pursuit of perfection,
is consigned to hell.

Yet even in bleakest despair
the poet writes on. Night
is darkest before the dawn;
Hope springs eternal.


A museless mind
in quest of just one spark
in a sea of darkness;
The year is new,
Void surrounds this fallow pen.

the  gibbous moon couldn’t sway
the night. Can your astronomical feat
accomplish what it did not? Distance
has no power over seasonal flux,

Only the tilt accomplishes that,
but  tonight as Earth  travels closest
to the Sun, if you should see
a wayward muse,
please send it home.


On Jan. 4th, 2015,
Earth comes closer to the sun than it will come again all year.

This phenomenon is called perihelion
(from the Greek peri (near) and helios (sun).