“who looks outside, dreams;
who looks inside, awakes.”
            -Carl Jung
he wakes into his dream
then walks to the window
outside fog wraps the trees
like old women in shawls
as he returns to his room
he wonders where she might be
whose hand does she reach for
on these days he feels so alone
it is the longing for desire
not a simple closure
but the ache of want
the lunar pull into the dark
not forward nor back but
toward the hidden in himself
(November 2012)

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