John DeMartelly "Old Moon"
Memory, it turns out, is a persistent ghost
I stack books
bury my face
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.
---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.