And the dark is full.  One green, gold

Streetlight.  The dog somewhere outside across the street

Gives a conversational bark satisfied he is outside home.

Insects commiserate with each other over tales

We will never know.  A couple of voices

Pass by in quiet repose.


Cars languidly slide by receding

Into the impermanence of silence briefly held.

Sprinklers whisper a verse

I long to remember.


Ragged choruses dance in the dew.

Hills climb toward clouds.

We close our eyes to see what is not.

Not that the parallel life

Is stillness fulfilled, glinting

Charm or travesty evaded, no


All the cleansing is gathering fate

To its breast, marching to drums

We only hear as they grow near.






Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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