Poets and artists published in Spectrum Online Edition: Open Window are invited to read at the Saturday Afternoon Poetry Zoom meeting on Saturday, November 19th between 3 and 5 pm PDT.

Friday, November 11, 2022

Tohm Bakelas

distant stars illuminate nothing


It is September, no October,

and for three days the rain 

hasn’t slowed. Except now,

now it has stopped, when

just before it was steady.

You can see the river has 

risen, far higher than it had 

been all summer. And 

summer, a season now gone, 

is a place you no longer wish 

to remember—too many losses, 

too many heartbreaks. Summer 

grows shorter as you grow older.


But here in this autumn, you

hear crickets talking amongst

themselves, talking about things

you will never understand. You

wonder where all the birds have

flown, is it to some place south,

some place tropical where the

sun always shines? You wonder

why you were not invited, but then

you remember you are not a bird.


And tonight, outside your window,

you will watch the moon disappear 

behind grey clouds in the inky sky 

as distant stars illuminate nothing.




september night, october morning


She buys Sensodyne for my sensitive 

teeth and a new blue toothbrush

because my old one was used 

to clean crud from beneath 

her son’s dirty fingernails…


At night we crack windows open

just enough to taste autumn,

just enough for the room to

grow cold for our bodies 

to become one in sleep.


And in the morning 

we begin the day 

by making love. 


Afterwards we talk 

about life before 

eating breakfast 

around one pm.


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