Luna Tapa

(from the moon series)

Aqui, tienes la tierra,
que mas quieres?
Tienes animales e el cielo.
Tienes relámpago y la lluvia.
Esas cosas son suficiente
para una vida profunda.

Y ya sé que a vivir es caro
y la alma es delicada.
La diseñé como asi.
Pero asi que te podrias disfrutar,
te doy la luna tapa, gratis,
una gema en la noche.

Forgetting Moon

(from the moon series)

stands in the February river, pole in hand,
swings the fly back and forth, feels the cold
current move while time slips away
and memory, once jagged, splinters
and disappears, swept on downstream.

Loses sense off the needles, the kids
come and go, every summer, every week,
every weekend, they haven't been in years,
the soft reminders of the path, the one foot
after another,           gone,
the half crescent moon lays on the floor,
vanishing, the dirty kitchen,
the burner left on, the pain in the eyes,
watching an ancient, well loved orb,
veer off orbit, lost among the milky way,
a long goodbye,

a slow realization that it can no longer do
a simple revolution around the earth.

Moon Over Valencia (1)

(from the moon series)

explodes over the bridge, aglitter
in the sky, turns heads and stops
crowds. The three a.m. encore,
the business class and the jobless
workers celebrate the fathers and freedom.

We walk without end, until steps blur,
until sidewalks sweep, until bombs wake us
suddenly, with flashes and nervous yells,
breaking holes in people.

The moon just watches the chaos. Happy
to be far, eats popcorn and witnesses
the gleeful screams of bodies
avoiding another firecracker.

Isolated Moon

(from the moon series)

does not exist. For there are no eyes
to witness. There is no planet to orbit.

There is no starlight to reflect.

There is no point of reference outside
itself to unmoon. Thus, beside the universe
there is nothing else. No chairs
or tables to consider. No asteroid belt.

A vacancy surrounds. Slowly wraps
itself around. Slowly erases existence.
Slowly hums soundlessly.
Slowly permeates the void.

Slowly.

Old Moon Love

(from the moon series)

sits on the front porch
on the dripping sunset nights,
in the cool autumn weeks,
rocks back and forth, hand in hand,
ears on the radio, soft banjo music
and thirty years behind.

The fire long since turned into books
and candles and games and memories,
the insulation of long marriage.

The touch of an old star,
the coming and going,
the clouds and the darkness,
the light and the cities,
the country life and constant
underlay of the universe.

At this age, youth a distant galaxy
and the fingers of a lover
on the shoulder a daily habit.

This place is changing
and the only thing not
is old love on a rocking chair.