Ghosts not ghouls 
shadows not monsters 
just empty things 
that aren’t hollow 
for within them 
once had beat
now no more 
they carry emptiness 
like the shallow 
giving way to 
depths of sea
never seen again 

It’s in quiet
I feel comfort
certainly not noise
or even distraction 
the absence of 
things besides me
in a bubble 
keeping at bay
all the others 
for they scratch 
paw and scream 
like unseen animals 
in the wood 

Let marching 
forces come
then when
their backs
are turned 
strike mightier 
no man
can conquer 
what he 
cannot see

Who ever 
imagined that 
the torch
of Liberty
herself would 
be the 
thing that 
would ignite 
the fire 
laying waste 
to America 

It rises east
like a loaf
of long awaited 
freshly baked bread 
its yellow color 
tinged with brown 
around the edges 
of lingering night 
grumpy old crusty
night giving crunch
to the promise 
of the warm 
and springy day