Howard Moss Poems
|8.||Notes from the Castle||4/19/2016|
|9.||Painting A Wave||4/19/2016|
|13.||The Truth About Love||4/19/2016|
|14.||Where the Castle Is||4/19/2016|
|15.||A Swimmer in the Air||1/3/2018|
Comments about Howard Moss
To the memory of a friend,
drowned off Water Island, April, 1960
Finally, from your house, there is no view;
The bay's blind mirror shattered over you
And Patchogue took your body like a log
The wind rolled up to shore. The senseless drowned
Have faces nobody would care to see,
But water loves those gradual erasures
Of flesh and shoreline, greenery and glass,
And you belonged to water, it to you,
Having built, on a hillock, above the bay,
Your house, the bay giving you reason to,
Where now, if seasons still are ...
"Wake to the sun," the rooster croaked,
First bird of the day. The world, light-flecked,
Chiselled its lineaments into form.
Where was all that fine light coming from?
"Trance at the wonder," the second sang.
Whose five dry notes urged the ongoing
Afternoon on. "Why wake and stir?"
It asked. And asked. There was no answer.