I wasn’t paying attention, but this happened! Many thanks to Nine Muses Poetry for publishing these pieces!
Rain
rain floods the corners
rushes along the gutters—
nowhere to cross
ripples grasp for the edges
collide into each other
puddles vibrate—
just before bed
rain applauds the dark
blissful sleep
Place in the Sun
My world is the world,
not a room in my mind.
My world is not mine,
it is no one’s & everywhere.
There is no earth,
accelerating beneath my feet,
pushing me through time.
The flowers bloom
and then they fail.
I am the world,
digesting in the belly of the beast,
swallowed whole
and crushed by rocks
for insufficient teeth.
There is no sun,
faraway and familiar,
no source of my nourishment,
nothing capable of my destruction.
Daryl Muranaka lives in the Boston area with his wife and two children. He enjoys aikido and tai chi chuan and exploring his children’s multiple cultures. His poems have appeared in Gyroscope Review, the Roanoke Review, and Spry…
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