crescent moon
reclining on clouds
the maple stands alone
Raising my cup, I entice the moon; her reflection of you and me make us three. Bathed in moonlight, I wash in each scent you left behind. Baptized in them, I become born-again, a poet speaking in tongues.
faint mist, gloomy clouds
sorrow surrounds the day
who can take a poem
beyond the Pacific
a calligraphy of geese
flies against the sky
Snowflakes seed the sky in silence. The loneliness gnawing at the corner of my heart grows louder.
I go out the window.
reclining on clouds
the maple stands alone
Raising my cup, I entice the moon; her reflection of you and me make us three. Bathed in moonlight, I wash in each scent you left behind. Baptized in them, I become born-again, a poet speaking in tongues.
faint mist, gloomy clouds
sorrow surrounds the day
who can take a poem
beyond the Pacific
a calligraphy of geese
flies against the sky
Snowflakes seed the sky in silence. The loneliness gnawing at the corner of my heart grows louder.
I go out the window.
September/October 2010 issue of Sketchbook
