Tag Archives: moon stones

the last of it

there’s a crescent of hope in the sky that says we are for each other, even as we crumble. even as we fall. even as we leave ……..pieces of ourselves behind. still, …..small, we shine. the ……{not quite gibbous} gist … Continue reading

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moon bare and blue

magnetic poetry 

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sweet spirit shine

magnetic poetry   

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Mr. Midnight and Mrs. Moon

.. He’s got her swooning again, dipping her toes in horizon dark, slow disappearing and playing her part in this star-stung waltz. He’s got her waning again, making less of her -self by degrees, crescent -cutting tangled trees and startled … Continue reading

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myth moon

  ..  she keeps us swoon -ing with her waning heart, wondering how she stones the sky. And even Thor ain’t got nothin’ on her shine.   .. In November, we poem. Often, about the moon.         

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Pouring hope from tea leaves

, we wish upon whatever we can scrounge: these shattered stars, the kitefluff of a drunken dandelion sun and one last candle’s kiss. It tastes like copper -penny fountains and a stolen horseshoe score, a broken silver skystone all aquiver … Continue reading

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Dry Spell

The moon’s got a river of promise running through her milky skin, a vein of waning soul. I’ve got a fallen-scar wish that says she’s willing to die for that ocean. And really, aren’t we all just bodies of water … Continue reading

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and the moon slips by, in silence

she’s focused on her own un -doing, the waning of her wiles, the extinction of her ink. she thinks the world is flat, forgotten. rotten with unstirred souls. she’s sure of nothing. she’ll salt you clean with ocean sway, the … Continue reading

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Sky Calling

.. The stars are sharp tonight, tongues of fire that freeze and float …………..and fall, and we wish they would un-Braille ….us, sing these syllables in a language we might hear and …………..know. The moon? ……..She’s just a golden-throated swallow … Continue reading

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By strange and varying degrees

  Tempt us not, for we are waiting for the hot hot breath of dragon summer breeze, the way the trees can sway a soul. The balmy blame of sea. Thread us not through flotsam fleet nor pirate plea for … Continue reading

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