There it was, the quick dismissive shake of the head,
eyes flashing irritation because he hears 
the same endless questions every time he’s booked.

Every time, he asks to be back on the only thing 
that keeps the voices at bay. Voices within voices.

You know—the ones nobody else can hear—
the constant chatter like a dinner party 
swirling inside his head and out. Waiters 
with plastic smiles on demon faces
giving orders, not taking them.

	“The guy next to you is the devil.
	You need to kill him. NOW!”

	“You’ve never been any good for anything,
	why don’t you end it? NOW!
	Better for everyone.”

	“Your mother said she’s watching,
	says you’re trash that needs to be 
	taken out. DO IT!”

He signs the consent, pen digging into the paper
“will this start today? Please? and I need
the highest dose you can give me,
same as last time, okay? OKAY?

I sigh mentally, thankful that the cell door
is closed and locked. He slides the signed consent
through the crack on the side, 
smiles an empty, helpless smile
that begs me to understand that here,
in this time and place, I am his only defense
against the circling darkness
                        

	for Alan Walowitz

bare trees against a winter-gray sky
windfall apples against a new fall of snow

fall wind teasing at leaf-gold mounds
mounting anticipation of cider and pies

mountains of wood, cut-dried-stacked against
the melancholy the loss of fire provokes
                        

	for Tricia

seashore solitude
embodied in low gray clouds
written on wave-brushed beaches
in reflected sun on endless waves
all metaphors for an enduring emptiness

i long for forces wild and fierce 
to change the ocean's rhythymed tides
flood safe harbors, wreck all boats
tear me from the mooring ropes
of my sheltered, constant sorrow

today there was no storm, no fear
as i sailed out from a private port
to where the seafloor disappears
below imagination

i didn't expect to hear from you
did not anticipate good news
but here it is - acceptance
without required reciprocation

and i find again, my gratitude 
comes from a place of deep loneliness
deeper even than this sea