Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Old Moon

John DeMartelly "Old Moon"

Memory, it turns out, is a persistent ghost

I stack books
bury my face
but it walks by
every other minute!
---specter of joy, passing.

Yet, joy remains
in folds of happenings
as learned to love
from the well I'd fallen into.

The only mediation:
long glimpses of the
old moon at dawn
and dark rooms to laugh in
at the marvel-web
thats been spun upon itself.