Sweet Potato Haircut

it’s spooky, spooky

how desire never satisfies.

bound to brevity and illusion yet, diving in,

my head is always clear.

spooky, spooky how the starlights hang

in the endless night of existence

but are not for keeping.

my love is wide and aching but i cannot pocket starlight,

nor any bit of life even

those i love are bound to dark and dust.

the light, i suppose, illuminates the night

so you can see what is already here

waiting for you.