Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Smokey's Ashes

Bringing home Smokey's ashes
in a plastic bag
along with an imprint
of his paw
splayed more than I remember
on soft, unbaked clay.

Memento mori
receiving light
from an east-facing window.
What lessons to be learned
day after day?

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Losing Smokey

My little wayfarer
you are released
from all that is not you
going now
to where I can
no longer hold you
my little one
I hope you can hear me.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

In the Wake of Finishing Proust

They finally came
the last words
which happened to be
on the meditation of Time.
I repeated the lines
not wanting to leave
this palpitating world.

It is a loss
not so much of the characters
wrought by a wonderfully deft hand
but of a world
made intelligible
by becoming my own.