Friday, June 5, 2009

June ~ mark cobley

to come back
cannot be done.

along the edge of the woods

It is an unusual moon

but it doesn't rain

easy the walk here

I like having this to myself

I like the breeze



it is not far past

the wooden bench of a fallen tree

last years leaves left

to disappear.

Speak again soon.

Two swans
by the river banks reeds reflect

dog rose bending
as the rain falls

the traffic in the distance.


In the cushions memory I like that I see you

the window steaming up here
in the kitchen by the kettle

it is true we loved
still do

not long gone

I imagine never coming home

the long slow days touch
short nights
on the rim
in the borders

traffic and yellow cabs

columbus circle

59th St and 8th Ave.

Because you have gone too far away now

I measure

with sweet seedless black grape
rye bread

from here

the thinning river


sun ripening tomato. fountains, distance from monuments

the stone houses

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