Who is that?

I glanced over at myself

in a three-way mirror today,

and startled, I wondered,

who is that old man?

Hey, you’re Moses, right?

Say, so when are we getting

to the Promised Land?

Cause my dogs are barking,

and my children are screaming,

and our community is cracking

into a million little pieces

under the blazing extreme heat

steaming between whispering friends.

Neptune’s nephews

It is sometimes hard to imagine

myself as a child again, back in

their day, of eleven or eight,

when I ran open-armed through the

fields of waving wheat wheels

that tunneled from one circle to

another and back again.

It wasn’t really a lunar landing, or

something from outer space,

but back then, I did imagine

it could have been.