the dream of the moon (20190722)

i dreamt i was the moon, but the dream seemed real upon waking, so much so that i checked the mirror for craters and dark sides. i found nothing of interest–no man living there, no celestial maiden, no mochi pounding rabbits. the memory of that cold embrace of the dark sky, being held by nothing, floating and shining with an impossible weightlessness of being both far away and as near as a reflection in glass haunted me throughout the day and well into a moonless night.


for dVerse Poet’s Pub
Prosery #2 — “I dreamt I was the moon”

first itch (20170419)

at first there was an itch
an itch that wasn’t there before
and no hand to scratch it
so a fire had to do
to contain the itch
but the fire grew out of control
it burned without oxygen to consume
and its ashes became a fine mist
and the drops coalesced into diamonds
the first stars
and they sang with voice
but there was no air
and there was no one to hear

——

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 19

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Poem 20150513

swiftly moving clouds filled the sky
our hands were coated with clay
as we tried to answer the question why
before the ending of the day

this thing before us, so like a man
seemed all but to move, yet lacking breath
stayed still upon the earth–you began
to mourn a life that could not know death

since it had not yet been alive
these tears fell upon its eyes, washing them clear
it rose and and walked and began to thrive
and faced the sunset without fear

and you and i, still holding hands
watched it leave for greener lands