windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Category: poem


in the city, the moon is like a neighborhoodcat: you learn where it’s likely to appear–it leaves you lonely for a couple of days, and thenjumps out from behind a house.


it is rare that aperson whose instinct is tojudge makes a new choice. be that rare gift.


clear spring night: the train— the sound that draws us to ask: where are we going?

seeing through

a sledgehammer used where thetask calls for a toothbrush. a fleeting flush of triumphobliterates ten thousand opportunities. we’ve seen it before, and wenever fail to grieve. in grieving, we see through thefacile charm of the sledgehammer. we become adeptwith the toothbrush. never forgetting, weforgive and forgive.


a better one than i would hear the insectswith voices quieter than trains, in town,at bedtime. nevertheless, the trainsongs givemy heart the kiss of sleep.