In the Garden of the Moon
by Bruce Boston
Light in the garden of the moon
inhabits all of its surroundings,
lending them an ethereal glow,
opaque or translucent,
depending on their
molecular composition.
I fell asleep solving
quadratic equations
in the garden of the moon
and awoke in a world
of topological mists.
I sowed the seeds
of my discontent in
the garden of the moon,
and reaped an amplitude
of bus tickets and foreign scrip.
I summed my worth
in the garden of the moon
and sensed the arrival
of a curious horizon.
I know when I leave
the garden of the moon
it will grow on without
me and within me.
I thought I once
heard ancient music
in the garden of the moon,
but it was only the
insistent beat of existence.