Wednesday, December 31, 2008

April (a, b, c)

April (c, untitled)

open door at sunset
cool in the coffeehouse
white lemon tea

-Ellen Skagerberg

April (b, untitled)

Trader Joe's parking lot -
which flowering tree
did I park beneath?

-Ellen Skagerberg

April (a, untitled)

Yes, I’m sitting outside in the dark.
I need an oracle.
I’m waiting for the moon.

A misty moon is moist
and pretty, fruitful,
good for lovers.
A greeting card with a bunny on it.

A ring of bone, a haggard eye,
a socket,
spreads grey cards
upon a world in ruins.

Can't you tell?
I smoke.

That same cold dusty stone
has looked so long, so very long, on us.
Monotonous shallow seas.
Erupting mountains,
slow erosion,
continents of grass.
All the things that swam and crawled about.
Too small, at such a distance, to be seen
but still, moon feels them
being pulled, perhaps.

I look up.

The coin of light has fallen in the sky.
My face reflects what moon reflects to me.

Neither yes nor no but . . . . . . . . . .
kind . . . . .perhaps. . . . . .
While humans war and torture one another
moon looks on
and maybe always will

though not, perhaps, on us
but on a small wild hare
nibbling a hazel leaf.

-Deanna Hopper

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