the problem with longing
it turns out
is
no matter
how strongly it is felt
no matter
how great the need

it doesn’t mean
it will be

fulfilled

now the moon
hangs lonesome
in the sky
as the spider
feasts
upon mortal flesh

eight poems
painted on stones
sink
to the bottom of the sea
to sit
alone for eternity

wishes
unfulfilled

as the world
keeps
spinning