Master’s in deep funk,
up and down all night, one book
after another.
He can’t be content
with the changes, the piping
of heaven. I tell
him just down the block
the neighbor’s purple red dog-
wood has exploded.
Limpid and profound
mean nothing to a self full
of itself. I look
up through the blossoms
like Basho in silent tears—-
no poem coming.
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Author: Tom D'Evelyn
Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.
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