windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

heart song

for jt

in between bouts of relentless rain, the moon,
unencumbered by clouds, sings
of the glorious spring to come. my neighbor- i hope
she shares this auspicious moment

anthologized

these poems i’m reading go on and on and on
image upon image, tough to decode
i can’t say that they’re good or bad, but only
that my heart is getting poor reception

half moon

as disappointing as the news can be
it’s garbage night, the cans are out
and there’s no reason to suspect they won’t
be empty in the morning

marching on

i used to ride my bike to work in the rain
and walk for hours, before dawn, below zero
joyfully, to meditate with strangers,
spontaneous belly-laughs issuing

from ticklish, curious, solitary depths that no one
shared. and now i rush from this
to that, i run the heater, forget to sit,
chasing scores of dancing children.

shiny streets

the warm, wet sidewalk makes my old shoes squeak
a black cat guards a neglected garden
the matte sky flattens houses into paintings
almost spring. who notices?