Long time no post. Time plays tricks, especially since lockdown. Here’s a ghazal as apology:
A Letter for the Future from Now
It’s Indian lettuce season again, miner’s lettuce –
5 acres to pick for salad in a short green time.
We’ve come another solar year, they say,
by Gregorian calendar which measures time.
How shall I remember what happened when
July bleeds into June and other tricks of time?
His memory brings back the 1930s, erases
yesterday, this moment washed away by time.
A friend swears that lockdown – how many
years ago? – has quite erased her sense of time.
Was it last year we met in Diane’s pasture,
Sue’s patio? some other spring-summertime?
This poet’s lost, dating events gone by,
all moving amorphous in Covid-time.
I walk outside under stars that dizzy me
beyond all notion of passing place and time.
~ Taylor Graham
