4th time around

i spoke to the moon

her supple radiant form

desperate and forlorn

nothing but a cylindrical orb

fighting to be reborn

i saw her tonight

against the backdrop of  ten thousand street lights

she said

the only thing to worry with

is the frightening prospect of the abyss

that always and defiantly exists

for the poets on the precipices

you can spy them gathered in their huddled masses

shading their thoughts with prospects & mad dashes\

to corral the infinite

to define the relevant

and parade themselves in the vacuous prevalence

of destiny disguised as decadence

but the more informed bards know

that moonstruck lovers

trade their woes

for half price tickets to the show

and behind the scenes access to the celebrities who know

that the price of fame is the same as the price

of dancing in the afterglow


well, i waited

for her repose

i watched the stars dip and go

i felt the pull of morning murmuring in the undertow

of the cold ocean water

circling my toes

while sand displaced

and words erased

danced around the throes

of a million listless lovers

who hid beneath the covers

and slowly rose

to denounce the madness

dethrone the helpless

and install a kingdom of endless prose

where everything reflects

on the infinite and circumspect

while circling the infinite

with a crown of thorns and neglect

she said

the crown was for

the children born

into a land of fear and war

she said

the tide

would surely rise

so gather

your troops quickly before

the world is turned out the door

and the stars are thrust into the dark

and the dreams of poets are all but lost

and the songs of children are whispered gone

and the wrath of god goes on and on

like a tired record

playing songs

that the world has heard since it was born

and the world is full and can take no more

the tide is high

the tide encroaches

the waters rise

as the moon approaches

she asks for nothing

in subtle glances

a light reflected

a bargain balanced

against the weight

of the cosmic fate

of those who choose to negate

the claims of time and space

one lone astronaut

lonely in his orbit

decides to make an observation

he declares that the moon is there

and the only thing worth living for

is the space between two spheres

but his observations are ambiguous

his findings are all incredulous

tainted by the internal drive

to return to a world

where death presides


aloft in space

the lone soldier decides

that the problem with choosing sides

is the thin red line

between enemy and foe

warriors all know

that the conscious is a luxury

for those in well lite homes

so he soldiers on

through the darkness lacking form

through the space between the storms

to devise a scheme

to defend a dream

and to shout into the torn

fragmented world

that the moon has lost her right

to divide the day from night

and should be stripped of rank and light

as soon as the sun arrives

these findings are those

of a lonesome traveler on the road

and should be considered in light

of a wearisome night

where- the moon in her half-light

wreathed the blanket of foresight

with the promise of forthright

and straightforward downright

deliverance from hindsight


the travelers said that they were misled

that the only things living where inside their head

but we know better

we have gazed upon the far shore

and the tide though it rises will rise no more

even the moon has her boundaries

even the sun has its fate

and tem million years of silence cannot erase

the fact that a lover was betrayed

an astronaut was displaced

and a world was lost

to infinite space

so gather the fragments that remain

gather your rosebuds while you may

make much of time

make much of space

because the waters are rising

and there is no escape….


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