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clonazepam - photo by smith

DRUNK, GOING DOWN, LOOKING AT THE MOON
To my friends the Smiths, and Oaxaca

In the dim Oaxacan night’s light, I stumble, tumbling –
dropping  my cane, looking at the moon.

No harm, no fault.  The beer didn’t break, the pants never ripped.
 Two beers, a joint?  I was Li Po in that boat.

Looking, falling; he drowning, I bleeding a bit from the knee.
 Same moon, same fall, same drunk…

max

MOON HAIKU

The silence sizzles
As the moon hangs over mind
Hear inner hollow

The moon is okay
But not a moon-faced old man?
What does this honor?

smith

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