windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Category: poem

works

meeting his deadline, bach conducts from the organ. the rest is old news.

deposit

this is where we find ourselves: broken reeds gather at the high tide line.

as it flies

spring night, searching for the full moon… a meteor! then two! sweet failure!

housework

the taste of spring rain is enough to remind me to keep it simple.

pause

lungfuls of sweet jasmine… disaster, averted at every turn—how long? above a single moth-hum, the full moon: resplendent through the clouds.