2009-06-12 - 8:28 a.m.

moths in the morning

as soon as a luna moth is hatched, it begins to die a slow death. they wind down like clockwork along the side of the trail, one and then another, and another.

these things are just so sad to me. such a sad way to start the morning.

what leaf, this time of year, is so pale,
the pale of leaves when they�ve lost just
enough green to become the green that means

loss and more loss, approaching? Give up
the flesh enough times, and whatever is lost
gets forgotten: that was the thought that I

woke to, those words in my head. I rose,
I did not dress, I left no particular body
sleeping and, stepping into the hour, I saw

you, strange sign, at once transparent and
impossible to entirely see through. and how
still: the still of being unmoved, and then

the still of no longer being able to be
moved.

~carl phillips.

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