the moon’s up there somewhere and almost full!
my head’s a moon unto itself,
a little knocked off tilt.
I accept that
just as blue crabs and tigerfish
make a niche in the meadowlands
where dioxin sludge leaves its shrieking traces.
guess we both have a need for rootedness–not in the sense of fixity but the saturation of personhood with the soul of place and the other way around.
may we all find freedom in this very life.
sam coren 