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”

reflection upon an ongoing life and death struggle (20170105)

summer dawn and dusk
comes the coated filthy thief
tip-toed, determined
to steal what he did not tend
and leave rotting evidence
scattered in my field

without fear of my dog’s teeth
mocking my (too-far) raised fist
he leaps from the roof
tossing a bare pit
at me in his spite–but now
the leaves have fallen

winter, no peach, no squirrel

——

for
dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Meeting the Bar; the Choka