Poem 244

When Brecht was a refugee from the Nazis, wherever he went in the world he took a Japanese scroll that he hung up, the continuity of that one small thing making every new place both home and workspace …

Music From Another Room

The wind chimes play
because I've opened the door
to the drip after rain
and the cork on bottle
sound of birds

this is the fifth home
I've put them up in
they still hang from the brown
luggage label string I knotted
together years ago
tinny tarnished and cheap
they go with me
because everywhere their sound
is the same

here they chime
if the door is open
in other places where the breeze
could never reach them
I hung them anyway
and turned them
with a finger then