Sunday, April 13, 2014

NPM: Three.


You bend your knees,
you say a prayer,
but you can't say
what happened there
between the window pane
and the streaks of rain.
The glass never knows
if it's broken or wet
and if you become glass
you too will forget.

Holiday Special

In t.v. land jolly men walk
up around the streets of Christmas
carrying carols in their mittens
and swinging from one tradition
to another, taking for granted
that this will happen again next year,
next season, next boxed set,
next primetime holiday special.
But over the wall of wires and lights
it is an uncertain springtime
in which it seems always winter.
Nobody opens presents,
angels do not appear,
Santa never comes,
and somebody cries.


Sunshine, cloudshine, moonshine.
Dewdrops, raindrops, nightdrops.
Wakefulness, achefulness, thankfulness.

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