The circle’s center point and the universe’s
center remind us that these geometric forms
are also organic forms, focusing our attention
to this small sacred space for meditation
and moving outside to inner trance. Tantra!
I no longer believe in the green
light on Daisy’s dock, or any place,
or the future moving away from me.
But I do believe we’re boats against
the current, borne back into the past.
“Gatsby” via www.flickr.com
I play Satie softly not to awaken
her upstairs. I’m not much of a
musician, more a phonometrician, measuring and writing
down sounds as the Moon approaches fullness,
far from Paris, breathing in 3/4 time.
Curled on a grassy circle of sunlight,
looking up at the clouds, I am
seven years old again. My parents are
healthy, happy and will always be alive.
Sun-powered, I can do anything on Earth.
A dark cloud blocks the window’s sunbeam.
I return to the cold, wood floor.
My old eyes -sun-blinded – burn and tear.
When I stand up, my body protests
and aches from more than just years.