Typing, Ripening 2012

                    Typing, Ripening


There’s a moth outside the window as I type.

He’s beautiful and likes the light.

It’s night. 

Now there are two.  A bit

Distracted, all that I can do

Is shift the sharpness of my vision,

Share the lenses of my eyes,

Cut the brain

(already halved)

In two again

While checking wings, their underside,

Which I alone can see,

Patterns, fluttering,

(Now there are three)

From here inside,


Some slight friendliness and warmth

While ideas ripen. 


While Typing Ripening 7.19.2012

Circling Round Nature; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin



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