Moon River

Moon River


Such a trite name for a song
The house I enjoyed that summer
By the river now called yes
Moon River
Who could have thought
Of such a vision a full moon rising over a river
A moon like tonight big round white
Obscured by a river of rain

We lived there that salt summer
Naked in the garden the postman
Scandalized we kissed too two men
On deck chairs facing the river bees buzzing
Johnny Mercer and his wife sweet as rain
Cto visit he tipping his Greek sailor cap
A memory in the winter rain

Moon River in the Marsh
Narrow at low tide I imagine
Allen Ginsberg
Sitting on the dock
Dilapidated dock and he before the moon
Buddha of the swamp grass beatitude
All the anguish of eight acres dispelled
Not quite dead despite the
Smell of marsh gas and
Cawing flapping crows...

--Jack, Jan. '09