Cold morning moon
disc of white 
in shivering sky
of pale blue 
mitten less hands
and dusty mountains 
steam or smoke 
or maybe clouds 
rise from ground 
like cattail fronds 
caught by the 
winds of day 

Despite being in
a crowd despite 
being in a 
group despite being 
in love or
a relationship we
are all alone 
despite accepting that 
we assume that 
somehow someone else 
or maybe more 
will delay aloneness 
but it won’t 
you arrived alone 
as you’ll depart 
and the middle 
is a desperate 
attempt at denial 

I mystery
a reflection 
shadow and 
hollow log
a nook
a once 
and never
more a 
mistake erased
page pitched 
a few
pieces of 
what once 
was and
nothing else 

Lonely implies missing 
I am whole 
knowing who I
am does the
ocean miss land
the sky stars
does the mountain 
miss the valley 
no they are 
themselves free from
others and absolute 
they are one 

I have finally 
found it easier 
to add than 
subtract having already 
whittled down to 
the skinny branches 
this least is
different from the 
bottom for there
there is little 
but this least
always allows more 
for in this 
less I have 
found my most