augury doggerel

Saturday, November 16, 2002


My poor mother sometimes spent her good time reading science fiction to me, hoping to knock my brains out after a long day. It worked better on her�I would catch her nodding�but I was a sleepy boy and usually left her time for tea and Dickens and Henry James and George Eliot. One library book I almost remember was of ships sailing the dusty seas of the moon. Our only Latin. Soft spray of faraway.

Hevelius mapped the moon from this city, a place she and I never imagined I�d be, and brewed something here we never thought I�d drink. Now my head is nodding. Soft puff and ships on silent seas.


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