Monday, April 16, 2012


The moon shines down on the water
Even after the first time
Playing golf on an island
Small enough to meet you again
If these islands are a system
That can explain the distance
Between as something other
Than the slow geology
That brings us together
And apart so briefly
Shifting the focus of affection
To the drift to furtive glances
Through the telescope
(breakfast in bamboo huts
and tea with raw fish)
Then I will find a way
To send a backwards sign
By smoke by subtext
Or maybe by moon
When you are not watching
And I am not home

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