"Waiting for Hale-Bopp"

The air, still and oppressive,
Had not since midnight moved
A leader second-guessed himself,
His followers

Of Gloom

Morning stole sufficient light
as dawn upon the distant sky
stole the first dread image sight
devoid of hope and

I rub my belly gently as it starts to grow,
Something full of life something that will show.

How do I keep this secret from

Gloom

Tattered remnants of a life spent
in total fascination with horizons
that never became reality
for a poet's heart is never

Death is so Unusable

Trembling with anger
There is no mortal fairness
Death is the chill
At every glance
I am imprisoned with