Posted Dec 8, 2004


I’ll put the bundle of the world entire on my back and

head windward away from its chill stillness

along the ridge road out past the edge

A whining dog might bring you
to your senses

Autumn trees casting the gold coins of their
leaves down at your feet in drifts
might show you real wealth

An icy wind that could slice your head from your
neck from behind in the name of
none but the change of seasons might show you
another’s bitter truth

But know that lowering a bucket far down into the
dark well of the heart is required when
unjust bulwarks loom so menacingly against a
thundercloud sky

Passing one dead man suspended in a tree-crotch
then another and another over there among the
stubble-field’s hay bales
can’t deflect your main intention and its
to enter past the four elements and their
hybrids and nervous thoroughbreds

A ghostly presence at the doorway will only let you enter
into its ghostliness

so pass by that sound of squeaking hinges no matter
how inviting it may seem and don’t let your
profile make an impression in its haunted wax for even
one particle of a second

but keep to the path
set out from within you

and so shall I


Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore
web: www.danielmoorepoetry.com