Monday, December 15, 2014

By the Falling Dark

It's been a long time since I remembered
How much I've been forgetting. Gaps, like sleep,
Deep sleep, have a way of being themselves
Forgotten. Sitting here beside the creek,
Shoulder moon and sunset delicately
Balanced but shifting, small birds contending,
I congratulate myself on the names
I have given things, better names than those
Others have given them, worth forgetting,
Then I know all my own names, forgotten.

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