Clearing After Dark
Between the black rift
where the moon hung
and the grasses drenched
after a noonday downpour
the old fury in my brain
had floated far off
into the deepening calm,
as if the moon could see me
for the ghost I am.
nakedness, death, and the number zero: poems
Enjoyed this poem very much. Just my kind of imagery. Very tight like a Japanese tanka. Will look up more of her (his) stuff.
Comment by Nothing profound — June 13, 2009 @ 9:12 am
Thanks for dropping by
I know…first time I read it, it really struck me with its rhythm and imagery…glad you liked the poem…and he’s a he, btw
Comment by Incognito Ainur — June 13, 2009 @ 2:44 pm