Wednesday, April 28, 2010



The Moment


So I am a hydrangea now

Hanging heavy with my own petals


My voice is the eye-widening rush

Of rain beneath the streets


Streaming under the drains


Petals falling on the concrete gradually

Relinquish their lilacs for yellows and browns


To be stepped on in the downpour.


So I am watching that squirrel now

Crossing the line


As it does from time to time

I have taken it to bear good tidings


Because its presence has never

Brought me sorrow.


And, do I wonder if I know myself?


I chiefly wonder if I

Know myself


I find in truth that I can

Only know


In the gasping climax of

The Moment



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