A taste is emphasized in the past, and cannibals are emphasized in the future. We begin to segment our social explorations, like construction workers with boots that cramp their ankles. All visible defenses keep bumming off the invisible offense of Reality itself, while commerce grows dynamic near a spillway. Two-thirds of any action is composed of a prior action, like those cotton plugs in the necks of aspirin bottles. Levitation is the Central Rose.
In the face of the full moon
the morning glory closes its door.
I
Being invited to the lady's large bed
delighted!, and overcome by possibilities
Was not unlike stumbling through the Gobi Desert,
under an orange moon
And then entering some ancient city,
not understanding a word
II
Puking over her feet, I complain
she's "cold". it is not
an idyllic scene. I say I feel
too old, to do any better,
and that this is, in fact, pretty good.
III
The galaxies receding make a sound:
Patter of dog feet on sidewalk-
seas of tranquility they sort of nod
when you look at them as if to say
in a little while it won't exist
not even on postcards
Wednesday Morning
The cold air piercing my lungs
The copper-coloured leaves,
As kamikaze pilots,
Plummer into the green sea.
The moon,
Why are you out?
You come without warning
To watch over us
Here one minute, gone in another.
The iced autumn winds
Prickling,
Tingling at my bare limbs
Asserting its presence.
The sunlight tickling,
Teasing,
I promised her the stars;
She took the moon.
-all I am worth
Once I wanted to take the moon out of the the sky and keep it,
Because I thought it was pretty.
I reached up to grab it,
But it was to far away.
I tried and I tried,
But nothing seemed to work.
Then one day I realised,
That you don't need to hold something to find its true beauty.
As the world is engulfed in darkness
as the moon comes out to play
as the sun's fire fades
as the stars illuminate the world
as the predators awaken
as the prey falls asleep
as I gaze outside
as the fragile Earth disappears.
Kiss away my tears,
trace the patterns of my sorrow with your lips
light remains light
no matter what the colour is
mix with my nature
and bring a new definition to life
help me to not look to the future
but live it
make perfection not a sin
but a goal
i will follow you,
you will be my main direction
you are the wolf;
i am the moon.
there will never be a dawn that breaks
the spell surrounding us.
i fear to lose these sakura coloured
breathtaking sights i have grown to
love so much, the pink gleam of the world
twinkling as morning dew on the fresh
budding branches under the amber sunset,
crinkling their little noses upturned in the
fresh scent of your detergent and the faint
waft of my floral perfume. perhaps i dont want
this moment to end, for one day i know
i shall fall short of the huge dream i have created
just for myself, a lone daisy in the field on a
stormy night, sakura petals torn from their
branches in the violent graze of the feeling
of being cut off, wistfully fading in the grey white
reflection of the overly large crescent moon.
let me breathe and live through these
take these hands and lead me
to the windows of your soul.
in those autumn depths,
let me find myself in these pools
of rich amber, glistening with
the splendour of a thousand suns,
of great mystery and beauty
which cannot be gauged by
worldly measures alone. let me
be the subject of your gaze,
sweet and dripping with honey,
hexagons moulded into crescent
moons grant me the tenderness
of a mother to her newborn child;
i experience gentle affection,
through these all-seeing orbs of yours,
i dedicate to you, a single moon flower,
pristine ivory petals delicately resting
upon its fruit, arrangement reminiscent
of the stars in your eyes. vines curling
amongst the thick foliage of the vast
woods in which giants roam, in this
land of fantasy where i bloom,
just for you, at the darkest hours
of the night, where my affections lay.
i dedicate to you, this pearl of lune,
even as it spills out of my lungs,
reducing me to a heaving, beautiful mess
with its vines creeping into my heart,
wrenching out whatever there is left
of this love, taking seed in this hollow
cavity of a body which longs, yet is not