moon

the newspaper

            a shining silver sparkled handbag

ice glistening water falls from roof

and no one lends a saw

for no birds to come, yet

and no shadows, like puppets

           or poppy seeds

                        or flowers

petals fallen orange in the snow

            ice puddles stomped

and we admired

            tree branches

or we were wired sea trances

trucks full of dirt brown

                        rocks

gray ocean death stare

and sea glass green is smooth

for flying from coast to coast

            with shells in my pocket

tied around my neck and hair

you cried when we met

                        a horse

                                    a smile

                        a sunset

                                                dragonfly.

or maybe you came to tell me the story

            you laughed it out in little gulps

of river water and

                                    sunshine

i could see it in your eyes and

            two lines on your face

i felt your cold cold hands

            through electric nights

stood still in the mornings, spinning in fractured rainbow

when you turned off all the lights

            it shone through your window

a big mystery full of

            my questions

and a tiny space in the dark closet

            for my make believe answers, too.

he wouldn’t jump off that tiny cliff of

            wind and perception

but you and I slothe move

so slowly into caves of ice and coffee addictions

we got there walking with the zombies

             disguised as prophets. 

Author's Note

written february 21/22, 2011

Reviews

[GTVile]

Wow. I think you lost me there toward the end, but the mystic and chant-like cadence of this was phenomenal. I'm sure I don't understand all of it, and I'm glad I don't because it adds to the mystic. Very creative, and very full of LUNAcy, pun intended. Very, very, very good.

[cfix]

I really like this write, I thought it was interesting.