Saturday, July 23, 2016


blue whiteness of sky above shadowed plane of ridge

waning white moon beside rose branch across from it

possible, how is that not in which a moment appears

years now since, “rising” higher, sound becoming it

your voice at that moment in my wilderness of which

I speak, said that in a past that seemed so distant

still blue whiteness of sky above shoulder of ridge

line of pelicans flapping to the right toward point

No comments:

Post a Comment