Sleepy, Hollow

Perhaps we all remember when a peak

Held spiritual significance above

Our suburb lives or downtown thrills oblique

To Sunday School.  We had a Fuji love

Back then.  Perhaps it was a Jesus who

Meant something to us in a gospel song,

Or Buddha calmness which was mystic, true

And turquoise in its sound, a temple gong

That resonated, or perhaps a man

You danced with in a roaring rock club night

Who took you to his druggie caravan

And took you twanging to a climax height.

  We now inhabit graveyards where a ghost

     Is what our souls are offered at the most.

~ Phillip Whidden