cacti in my white garden in Kenya overlooking

     the Great Rift Valley.  They were planted so

       they could climb into trees at the edge of

         my Moon Garden–and the edge of the

          valley. The blooms survive one night.

A man’s identity is like a noose.

The deepest parts, at least, grasp, ever more

Demanding.  Flailing shows you can’t get loose

From really crucial truths.  You may abhor

Them, like a criminal reacts against

The strangling rope, but struggling makes it worse.

Your best intentions die where they commenced.

Throttled.  The sooner we accept this curse

As blessing undisguised, the wiser we

Will be.  It may not lead to longer lives,

But . . . what the fuck?  Who cares?  Longevity

Ain’t what it’s all about.  Fulfillment thrives,

Magnificent as flowers that bloom one night.

Embrace the glorious meaning of your plight.