sweet voices in a mist-filled wood like a memory of the moon just a few drops of blood from your yearly broken back and you can play until fat with all the things this difficult crossword puzzle doesn’t attract me now that some grey has snuck in so why not stay I lost my train of thought again but with the mental gps installed it was no problem to rejoin and then pick from one of the available choices and at last enter new star city
Tag Archives: moon
down smooth stone steps crumble the story hide it under a centipede’s unused foot walk home shedding your skin like the moon the next morning build a fire unlock all the doors
what hope in this pen and an ink
nearly invisible
earlier the morning sun on
the trees made me think of
large mammals and their humid scent
in the sun in the grass
the countable galaxies of
bright dew and now the chair
makes sarcastic music of my
musing but the night is
still and so wide without a moon
with her glorious hips the sweaty moon breaks every plate
(First published in Bones.)
back from the moon again this icicle laughter in my hair
(First published in Heliosparrow.)
I.
His clothes so out of fashion you wonder
if the gentle breeze from the willow will
shatter him into an ant hill of teeth
and trinkets you can sell at the market
II.
Your fabled jewel that could
end the conflict but when
you tell the story drops
of blood fall from your hand
III.
Tended with a heat gentle as
breath until the crow bubbles up
soon you will understand her voice
as though you too were from the moon
it then sails over that hill like hot oil down your leg but you need to get dressed for the evening execution though since all the cat food is gone perhaps first a stroll to the river past the perimeter guards and through the rubble hole in the southwest corner and hopefully no one else has found this place with its improbable stashes of obscene poetry journals good to eat for 1,000
beers we drank in rooms so completely similar to this dusty light we may have been poor but by God we can still be now where was I going with this nearly full shopping cart the sky is getting dark the bushes full of feet
rabbits in the parking lot obscured by the halo of the horned moon
From the Loathsome Autobiography of an Aspiring Hermit
we were all impressed that he had trained himself to overcome the sweating and fits that accompanied riding the elevator to the top floor where all those who helped you get to where you can finally hide the body in peace once you return those calls but really there’s nothing out there but the occasional chirp the grinding
sound of some industry in the distance that we all struggle to identify and some vague concern about retirement which tends to stay asleep except during certain phases of the moon in early autumn before the serious shopping starts and we depart for one day the air goes out and not every part of us is of use and of course those unseen forces you
go on about we peel off and set to one side to admire the fine and final finial detail but then we risk wandering past the border of our little park where we make miniature watercolor landscapes to please the passerby no matter how full of rage or foreboding before retiring once more to the dark closet with the machine that spits out hot air though today even that might be welcome as we question every word
choice and how many bodies we’re inhabiting while we wait for a more immediately impressive one to leap to the lips and be able to sing clear in the narrow streets where we wasted our youth on such games as need not be mentioned here though we remain softly pleased that its secretions were not the same as those found by the famous detective or his brother for that matter
recipe for a somersault when I see the moon next
other animals 