Towards March

Almost forgetting this shorter month

when days don’t quite reach their end

and thought flounders in hesitation

as stasis takes away planting minds.


Paths are blocked now for the green.

I duck thorns and branches growing

not randomly, for I feed and water.

Reaching for piano is also watering


March reminders, sound dropping

gravel in the humid haze of now.

There in the sun, how it was

then,  all was still


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A Tale of Time

Sometimes a moment hesitates

longer than expected and then

a crowd arrives like a movie

switching scenes with no

interval. And in that crowd

a few stills appear and

slip back in for a second

round and then you

try to to sort it out,

timbre and tone and treble

but then that time too

has gone again.


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a day

just a day, though the date pools

reflections,  landscapes of parents

clustering on the edges of this month

like a hundred collages constructed

from images left behind

in the cameras of memory:

a gesture or laugh

cakes, gifts, birthdays

signifying days we came

together as more than

just ourselves


We should have said

be the people you want to be

who we, always their children

thought we knew
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