wither, ancient spirit (20161029)

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as the animal blossoms
a wild moon breathes out
this soul follows secret winter

wither, ancient spirit!
murmur and wander no more

——

for
Specks and Fragments/Elusive Trope
Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge
All Hallows’ Eve Poetry Slam

what the moon is made of (20160618)

the sun isn’t even down
and the moon has already
more than cleared the horizon
(i could measure the angle
using that old trick by
laying fist on top of fist
like bricks)

only a ghost hiding behind clouds
that roll like cream
curdling in pale, lemon-heavy tea

did i say ghost?
the moon is a pile of
polished bones
rounded by a little circle

it sees things
and my bones see things
and from the sky
i can see myself look up
at myself
wondering when i will blink

transformation (poem 20150515)

full moon
but i’m not going to get
all lon chaney jr. on you

no sudden transformation
not much of a wolf
not much of a man, either
not likely to change

this little light of mine
i’m going to let it shine

no teeth and no fur
(except on my back)
and a useless heart
(except as a clock)
you can keep me around
as a paperweight
big as an eclipsed moon
and as inviting