nine lights of restless

the full moon sees
nineteen deer tracks crisscross
the pale yard, this window
needs washing, one side
of this bed no longer needs making.

stringing lights,
the frozen ladder
back and forth,
back  and forth,
on an icy walk,
half shoveled.

do the neighbors notice the time
when the lights go out?

in the city, we swirled martinis,
extra dirty, beneath blue lights and  bass,  
looking over the other’s shoulder
at our own reflections
in the mirror.

full moon, electric
tides, monitor flashes
into the dark morning abyss.

last night, a lunar eclipse
while I lay sleeping.

nowadays, when I turn a light on,
it stays on until I turn it off.  when I turn
a light off, it stays off until I turn it on.

below fake logs,
the jumpy blue flame
waits for the switch to be thrown.

the refrigerator light squints, 
and for no reason,
I tiptoe
back to bed.


4 thoughts on “nine lights of restless

  1. This is great impressionistic poetry, conjuring up individual images that are condensed, then letting the entire collection of images create a larger image of the poet, creating a portrait that is larger than the simple sum of its parts.

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