A Sunday afternoon contrameditation (a poem)

Composed mainly from the titles of some of the pieces of music I have recorded recently.

Seagulls in a small town by the bay

The blur of alternating industrial and rural landscapes
through the windows of the train
before it reaches the tunnels
is barely an afterimage

Another day of rain

Your heart is filled with longing and fear
liminal spaces with rough edges
almost word for word the way it happened

There is always a bit of storm in the silence

The full moon fights to be seen
because it has to fit the narrative
cryptic messages from the gentleman recluse
continuing a conversation from 30 years ago

30 years ago
has become 40 years ago
the difference a small piece of the timeline
skips and spaces
with X in the center square

The ocean likes to pretend
that it’s not that deep
or that wide—
but the ocean lies

What if this is the night
when the ether runs out
and the blood moon wakes up?

I heard the storm outside
and thought it was still
the middle of the night
and I was waking up again
for no good reason

I know it’s midnight somewhere
but I’m not there

That’s no surprise

(20 June 2022)

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