Saturday, March 28, 2009

Julia and the Rain

The rain hissed in the trees
dripped at the edge of the roof.
She stepped to the door
and looked at me
sitting on the porch couch
in the dark.
The screen door stuck
at the bottom
she pushed it open with the side of her foot
and stepped down.
She stood short in the light.
She sat next to me
snuggled under my left shoulder
and with a deep voice
that finished an aria
but hadn’t come down
still smooth and dark blue.
A voice carried above a whisper
like a swan that is always on the lake at night.
She said, “David what are you doing?”

We listened to the crickets for a long time.
Once the chickens startled
and we heard the thunk
of chicken feet readjusting to the roost.
I could almost feel their feathers
settle around them as they sank slowly
to the wood and their breasts rested.
We could feel them blink once or twice
We could see the blank lids drop lazily into night

“What is it?” she said.
“What’s what?” I said
looking for a way not to talk
and I wanted to talk.
The great oak trees hung in the rain above us.
They felt magnificent.
I pulled her close to me.
She fit thickly and firmly
under my left arm.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009


One evening Mr.Moon was walking with himself in his pocket.
On a hilly road his shoelace came undone.
He was bending down to tie it when
Mr Moon rolled out of his pocket and down the slope.
Over and over and over and over he rolled to the end of the earth.
Mr. Moon ran after Mr. Moon but he was moving so quickly
The interval between Mr. Moon and Mr. Moon soon grew far apart.
This is how Mr Moon lost sight of himself in the blue mists far below.