last day of the verb

moon

let’s go out to the country,
get away from the city lights;

sing the song of the mountains,
walk under the satellites;

feel the moon filling, ever-
molting in our sights;

drink up the fog fugue
like a hungry child might;

and remember how the moon would follow us home,
send us lost-dream signals only we could know.

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four-teen

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my daughter is

writing poems and

 

playing piano

keys while the

 

world is spinning, telling her

she should be working.

 

the singing apple is still falling

from the tree

 

in slow   motion

ecstasy;

 

obelisk of beauty and utility:

reaching, perching on the edge

 

of still pools, longing

to be space-craft.

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