Sleepless and alone, staring at the Moon

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.

 

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A Day at the River

“You aren’t just the age you are, you are all the ages you have ever been.” ~ Kenneth Koch

 

morning, pebbles making small ripples like fish

in afternoon sun, this was my beach

now empty but for summer moon and me

two silver waning slivers silent as water

a bridge that no one is crossing

 

Morning Glories

Sunlight crisp through bare almost-spring trees and

the air still March cool except here,

this circle around us, hot coffee and

eggs and toast, birds breakfasting on seeds,

last summer’s flowers watching us with interest.

 

Inspired by such a morning and Basho’s haiku:

I am one

who spends his breakfast

gazing at morning glories