windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

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.

gs & ag

they grasped their time. i do not grasp my time.
i grasp the brush, and brush my teeth,
and memorize the song we’ll sing tomorrow,
“spring has just begun.”