Monday, December 19, 2011

Moon Songs (i)


The moon hangs from hooks
Dangling like a prophecy of tides
Dismantled in the air
A smear of broken light

It needs little but thin air and
A wedge of cloud, back-lit

It falls from its trapeze
Into a net of cob webs

We scoop it with spoons
We are greedy for
An orgy of moon-glow

They shattered the vessels
These moon goblins

They ride witch-wild
And cross the speckled night
Moon mad and gibbering

They utter senseless divination,
They are our children, 
Wizened by moon-glow
Drunk on vaporous night air
Our hands, swollen with use
Are useless in its glow

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