the day moon
if it has no voice
may not be
October 2014
inhaling clouds
and exhaling more . . .
mountain song
out of darkness
and back into it
light-crazed moth
half moon . . .
a loopworm poised
mid-stride
with each gust
a gull alights afresh
on the fence
on a rock
absorbed in a daydream
summer rain
mist reading
a sand wader's
misprint
the other—
a sanctuary light
fills her eyes
words not quite
fitting the isness
of all this
joyful mystery . . .
a heartbeat quickens
from the dungeon
prayer fall
until breath gives up
even meaning
rite of passage
town after town blooming
golden arches
in dark wings
breath before
there is light
the absence
darkness suffocates
on itself
river fog
dreams rise around me
painting light
wormturn intowards itself
sounding out
the efficacy
of silence
mirror lake—
one stillness expecting
another
day after day
the deepening terror
of a still pond
autumn dusk . . .
the sound of daydreams
entering water
after-dream . . .
my empty pages
on tenterhooks
some words
lying just so—
blossom fall
the sea also
longing longing longing
to break ashore
fresh green leaf
her sleeping-down head
a-lay on me
crescent moon
head over heels
in darkness
spring rain
baptismal calligraphy
in the font
take this cup
it is made empty
for you
love making one shadow
everywhere
my invisible history
of being
to the stars
a candle waxes
lyrical
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