. . . from "Soma Song" MOON LIGHTNING There it was in a dream - three-quarter moon flashing blue-white lunar lightning, warning all walkers and lovers like a caution signal hanging above the street. There it appeared behind my eyes - trapped in its position, thrashing in orbital constraint, about to burst, about to explode its man-face all over the pavements of the night sky. Struck down by a slice of moonlight, I lay curled into a crescent shape like that lunar epileptic reflection on the rough and cobbled streets of yesterday’s journey - illuminating the need for a divining rod, a blind man’s walking stick for the next steps forward.

. . . from "Weathering Cracks" DRINKING TEA ON NEW YEAR’S EVE Dropping back Over and over Into a textured quietude, A gentle expanse of breathing We hold steaming cups With both hands Caressing smooth, grass-green ceramic We sit together In the hush of early dark, Dropping back once again Into the widening crack of silence, We rest and mark the shift Into a new year This calm feels alive With change, With an easy togetherness A few phrases slip from our lips Without intention, Falling like light Into the corners of the room, Disappearing Unremembered We keep the space open By not looking at it directly, By not needing anything from the moment But this dropping back Over and over Into in improvised love, Into this warm sip of tea.