Poems are like moons
reflecting past light
back down towards me
when I choose to look

Mind and creation
coexisting
at a respectful distance

Purged
with so much space between us
I no longer live
through the poems
they’re just reflections now

Beneath the busy sky
I’m free
and living life...

(Inspired by Cynthia's moon poems)

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Lit by the distant sun 
in a backyard beer-garden 
overlooking the meadow
my swimming brain spins out
through adventures of the past
forgotten journeys 
by coach, by plane
through unfamiliar landscapes
to the desert 
in California

We rode the Greyhound 
between the sun-drenched cities
your head lay on my lap
and when we could tear 
our eyes from one-another
we'd watch the world pa...

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