11-11-2018, 01:49 PM
Year of the Fire Monkey dawns
Shadows shuffle in my dream
as a breeze blows, rocks grow;
I’m receiving signals from Argo.
1951. Missing. Search and Rescue
mission, my father flew squares.
“Squares only work if everyone
knows exactly where they are.”
One faint radio transmission,
enigmatic flotsam on beaches
in the right drift pattern.
On an island bypassed by time,
visible only to the lost, last year
the Argo crew welcomed
Malaysian Airlines flight 370.
Sometimes the moon sends
messages that resemble memories,
white shades like rabbits
through the radiant night.
(published in 4th Floor Journal)
Shadows shuffle in my dream
as a breeze blows, rocks grow;
I’m receiving signals from Argo.
1951. Missing. Search and Rescue
mission, my father flew squares.
“Squares only work if everyone
knows exactly where they are.”
One faint radio transmission,
enigmatic flotsam on beaches
in the right drift pattern.
On an island bypassed by time,
visible only to the lost, last year
the Argo crew welcomed
Malaysian Airlines flight 370.
Sometimes the moon sends
messages that resemble memories,
white shades like rabbits
through the radiant night.
(published in 4th Floor Journal)