Friday, November 27, 2015

7512. MOST NATURALLY

MOST NATURALLY
The moon is at my window again, calling 
out about something or other. The part of 
me that wants to listen is not here.
-
I turn away, only pretending at surprise. Books
are my astronomy now. The stars are in my
hands. A waxing and waning of something.
-
There's a fenceline to this corner, when it turns and
bends. I do not really know to where it leads.
Perhaps I will someday again.

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