Smaller than life
an inch-and-a-half moon
all my thoughts
concern money
Poems on the topic: moon
Poems on the topic “moon” on Poets.by.
Bucolic
my half-acre—
enough land to admit
a quarter moon
Cold comfort
Cold in my hut
I huddle over the clock—
rogue theater, thief
of wife and moons.
A minstrel’s life
I drink with a seaman,
a half moon and a barber,
play harp for a bit of meat
and send broke thoughts.
Aftermath
open table
the moon takes every seat
makes the glassware glisten
and the cutlery glitter
or is this not linen
are we not in the aftermath of a feast
listen to the distant grief
of an abandoned dog
alone yet locked in orbit
who wouldn’t howl
The Remains of the Night
the moon falling into a well
and not coming out
an 18-wheeler on an exit ramp
gargling with compressed air
the owl’s open eye
the owl’s closed eye
the hypothetical fact of a fox
a rumor of a coyote
the skillet under two eggs
sunny side up
familiar recorded music
the bits that still surprise
my heel where i landed hard
on a sharp stone yesterday
snag of a hemlock
its roots becoming tunnels
On Night Watch
the moon over my shoulder
is already half-lit
i turn my hand palm-up
it fills with starlight
flying squirrels scold
in an ethereal key
i’m sitting beneath their
favorite mother oak
i take a deep breath
of autumn soil fragrance
a whitetail buck grunts
more as if in pain than in lust
there’s a thunder of hooves
then nothing
a dead leaf drops
into my hand
Hunter’s Moon
an eye that takes
two weeks to open
how to sleep through that
unwavering gaze
round as an infant
indifferent as a cane toad
to some appearance
of planetary conjunction
much less any hypothetical
end of life on earth
where the other eye
now dreams storms
Goldenrod Time
the meadow at dawn
gives birth to ghosts:
slow dancers of fog
beneath a crescent moon
that’s just been deserted
by its entourage of stars
the goldenrod’s dark gold
mellows to yellow
a whole 30-acre bowl of it
between wooded ridges
where the sun comes
as a parishioner
among the monarchs
and the green darners
and later the lopper
with its steel grin
Carpe Noctem
full moonlight at half strength
due to rain
a slow and seemingly deliberate
tapping on the roof
one of the last warm
end-of-summer nights
katydids singing this is it
this is it this is it
this night with its singular pelage
will never come again
let sleep go on without you
like a zombie apocalypse
flying squirrels open
the dark sails of their bodies
a spring peeper calls three times
in defiance of the season
Portentative
sky face says meh
to the white noise
of our anti
bodies of work
squeezing whole lives
into a few hours before sleep
while six-legged leaves
chant half the night
sky face acquires
a round cloud mouth
the moonlight denies
ever knowing the moon
the lives we’re missing bloat like corpses
as species dwindle
sky face is just the void
with better branding
June moon
the same moon
in everyone’s phone
fireflies
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