travels and dust.

la lune

...

and somehow i end up here often.

where the nameless thoughts and 

unidentified feelings are pushing at the surface.

provoked by the acoustic strums of a guitar

and the pianist's hands hovering above his instrument.

and that's when i close my eyes.

that's when i close my eyes

and somehow i feel it. it.

it takes the shape of a smile

creased cheeks and pinched eyes.

other times it becomes fluid.

salty and blurred. but so clear.

on occasion i find it in the moon.

i try to color it. silver? gray? white? ash?

what if it were just a perfectly round cloud?

or a sphere of smoke.

what if we were made of moon dust? lunar soil?

and i don't know why but ever since i learned 

man had walked on the moon, i've been sure that i will too someday...

a small list of things that i would do on the moon

Pray.

recite "Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky..."

look back and wave.

moonwalk.

sit and read The Little Prince.

say all of your names.

cry.

study the earth's smallness.

write.

...

now and then its in the night air.

i feel it most when i park my car in front of my house.

sometimes i sit for a few minutes before doing anything.

studying the stillness.

as i walk to the front door i collect.

there is a moistness and heaviness in the air.

and then i lie in bed and contemplate.

it reveals itself in dreams

and i feel small.

...

to smallness.