Night Rain in July

While I was busy
the night grew late, the moon slid
behind storm clouds—now
rain mocks me with these rhythms—
how you tapped on my window

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Chinese poetry, Japanese Poetry, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, Tanka, The Moon, The Rain and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Mumble back at me

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