The Hound is Dead, Long Live the Hound

There is nothing quite so effective
as a little down time
to bring things into focus...
when the dust can settle,
the air can clear,
the noise can fade,
and we are permitted
to have a contiguous
series of quiet moments
wherein we can reacquaint
with our true selves.

My time of disconnection
on an exotic island
has served.

Walking,
running,
on a beach strewn with
starfish, hermit crabs
and conches,
I happened upon myself.
I must have known that I'd be there.

A much needed reunion.

New Year's is a meaningless
Hallmark Holiday, like the others,
but it is true that,
if we are truly alive,
we periodically change,
re-invent ourselves,
survive.

Year's End is as good an occasion
as any other.

In this case, however,
I will simply get back to doing
what I had been doing
before I was so rudely interrupted.

Hello Shelley, Keats, Lord B.
Old Scratch, like Mick,
I'll show some sympathy,
Farewell,
all self-made prisons,
conventions
that kept me
under lock and key.
Libertine,
that's who I'll always be.

Come close, lass,
My fire may burn.
But ev'rything that's giv'n
Must yield something in return.

You had better,
It's essential,
You must.
Before our vessels rust.

And all who cannot fly
Shall be left behind.

Goodbye 2010, the old (new?) the Hound is dead.
Hello 2011, the new (old?) Hound has arrived.

Let the passions run wild,
my dark flower,
and our juices flow,
my stinger is ready
so "on with the show".