No Ken At All

16 February 2026

https://poems.culturing.net/2026/02/no-ken-at-all/

I go out under the moonlight again,
enticed by who knows what, to make sense of myself,
to put words in order, where they belong.
It has been a long night and is still not over,
but suns often rise. When I look to the skies,
my soul satisfies every demand, but my hand
has no hand clasped inside, leaving room
for this paper and pen, but no ken, no, no ken at all...