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Tag Archives: moon poems
i.we call her full. we name her half. as if she hasn’t stolen every last thing she’s got from that ball of fire. ii.we swoon as she rises, knowing she will leave us again. knowing starsare not enough. knowingshe’s the stuff of wild. of wolf. of buck. … Continue reading
Somebody switched on the skylights too soonand the moon slipped out of her own silhouette and we have yet to find a way to make her stay. I am already mourning stars, all pinpricked hope and other tiny ways to wish … Continue reading
She can feel them back there, growing. An ache between her shoulder blades. The phantom flutter of feathers not yet known. She’s flown before, she can feel it in her bones, the rush of breeze.A scrape of treetops across her thrilling skin. A whisper of … Continue reading
when both the sun and moon grace the same gold sky,i too am both erased and a bold new light rising. :: In November, we poem. Today is day 4.
That fat full wily wench is a liar, you know. She steals (light) our hearts And makes us feel infinite. Plot twist: We’re not. ::In November, we poem.
this poem is made of maple syrup sky and black forest on rye and the whispered why of granulated grace. of empty space. of quiet lines that trail true north, wax forth and waneonly by a frosted slice of moon. too soon, she’ll murmur something in … Continue reading
Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start…– The Sound of Music Closing time, every new beginningcomes from some other beginning’s end.– Semisonic :: she orders a whiskey, neat(there’s enough that’s on the rocks)and floats alone … Continue reading
booooo. the world’s gone down-ward spiral again, all clunk and funk and junk-mail treason. loss of reason,rhyme. time. but hush now, come with me. look up,the sky’s gone quiet. we’ll ask the moon to scare you upa spot of tea. :: It’s … Continue reading
the stars are clocking inagain, twinkled noses setto grindstones. wishingmoments. filing awaythe hours. bathed in shine,we praise the darknessfull of shadowedsecretsand other unquietmatters of the heart. that swollen misfit moon,a work of art. ::I’m late to the party for this … Continue reading