HARLECH CASTLE

stones speak in lost tongues
to sheep grazing by the wall
clouds gather laughing

voices of dead kings
echo off cloud shrouded hills
she whispers in dreams

a November wind
cuts deeply across the keep
distant hills crying

slash of claymore
glinting in the morning sun
bird with wings unfolded

moss encrusted stones
remember long past ages
sun smiles knowingly

distant bay waters
stare lovingly at the stones
winter wind grasps me

echoes of the pipes
reverberate in mourning
village awakens

a lone sailboat
floats aimlessly in the bay
dead kings laugh aloud

winter wind whispers
fingers touching ancient stones
laughter of a gull

her smile reaches out
across the expansive sea
King Edward approves

sheep dot the hillside
in the great castle’s shadow
slowly munching grass

ever fragile moss
dances on November winds
remembering once

SPEAKING IN TONGUES

She said
you should try
astral projection.

 I said
I have tried
transcendental meditation
and even a bit of EST.

 She said
that biofeedback
was better than
most of the drugs
she remembered using.

 I said
that tequila
took far less practice
if you could stand
the inevitable hangover.

 She said
she thought
that dying
was something
like giving birth

 I said
that it was more
like an orgasm
that would last
an eternity.

 She said
your coffin
would have
a weird projection.

I said
that hers
would have to be
surprisingly wide.