Tag Archives: moon

November hymnal (10)

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November hymnal (10)

Cause and effect cross-hatch the sketch
of death that gives it heartless depth, like weather.

Clouds pour from the trees and their rain is ash;
Memory, the fifth season, the language of sand.

You’ve scanned the barcode in this hand:
What minute mistake precedes the crash?

He burned alive inside his car. He already knew
these cities would not hold. In her bed the black

breath choked her but was not the cause, just the body’s
flag of surrender. Her last look could not be read.

She had all the time to prepare but none of the tools.
No understanding in the wide open eye. Too soon,

The promise of the pared appleskin moon:
so very little light is needed to die.

The Link

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The Link

At dusk the house blinks, as if it is just waking up
Though like an owl, its eyes were open all day

And the house only sleeps deeply for about eleven seconds
At a time. Like the owl, the house can rest

Half its brain more fully by closing one eye.
How the house’s dreams must differ from ours–

What would our dreams be like if we could see only
What our left brain or right brain most desired?

Like the house, the owl knows nothing beyond
Containment. Its mouth is small and full of earth.

Like the house, the owl makes its home
Close to the dense trees where the paths

Are too narrow for larger things to bother it,
Blends in with its surroundings. Why do we

Think the owl is wise and the house empty
Of soul? Even its rapidly beating heart, matching

That of a baby, and its ferocity at its nest
Staring down the hawk will not obtain it the favor

Of the God of the woman in the house. The moon
Can be seen through the top loop of the porch swing’s

S-hook from where the shadow crouches, feeling
For a spare key. The owl’s pupils flare, then its lower

eyelids rise as it settles in again; the thing on the porch
has scared the prey from the yard. In one room above

The house begins to dream.

Night’s asymptote

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asymptote

Night’s asymptote

Cicadas worry the heat from the bark.
Who am I to say where you are tonight

When gloaming’s slow folding unbuckles
Into night? The moon, only twenty minutes

From being a vague figure for lust, is now keen
song on a blade and without warning

Crickets and tree frogs push the black train
Forward. We all hear that same sound.

I know I will never completely reach you
And I know I will never leave you.

What that leaves us is the only word the
Screech owl knows before the circumstance

Of light floods across your lips and the sun
stumbles forward at the height of a man’s mind.

Lightning, like the earth is pulling

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koirose

Lightning, like the earth is pulling

Lightning, like the earth is pulling threads from the moon,
Unseen above the clouds. The earth’s desire is so strong

That fish wriggle from the tree by my driveway, and roll
On the sidewalk waiting for rain. The neighbor says they are fallen

Flowers from the rose of sharon, but they more resemble
Shrink-dried koi, ready to plump up as the moon draws

The water inland. Like wishes waiting for the right moment
They will blossom only after their fall and swim down the street

Where everyone can see, unattached to what they grew from,
Swallowing bread dropping through the air from the hands of strangers.

Dandelion Patch by the Elementary School, Early May, 7:50 a.m.

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dmoon1

Dandelion Patch by the Elementary School, Early May, 7:50 a.m.

They pluck them from the ground and smash
Them soundlessly on another’s head or back

What floats off their violence like a helicopter’s
Skeleton? Lighter than an elementary school

Morning. Directionless as a flying fifth grader.
Wish wands are what they call them. Why would you break

A wish on a boy’s stubborn neck as he tries to twist
Away? On the shoulder of the girl who’s too fast

For you to catch? They don’t wait for the fractured
Moon to pop free of its stem. When the field grows

Quiet I look up at the great yellow flower. If I wait
Long enough it will turn white and fragile against

The dark. I’ll meet you at the base of its hollow
Column, or wait till the wind dismisses me.

dmoon2

Reading sheet music

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arp

Reading sheet music

The guitar arpeggios are the roofs of nearly identical houses
In a small village. The streets are covered in snow, no one

Goes in or out. But the temperature even at night has turned mild,
No smoke rises from the roofs, which are spotted with moonlight.

In the morning a dog runs through the alleys, pausing here and there
To check out something new. Snow slides off a roof in the morning sun.

Rising

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Rising

The moon’s not looking
out a window in

the house next door
to the west of bed.

Rising I talk the evening
down from its sorrows:

What begins as one thing
passes into another, I say,

sundown to dusk to night
for instance, night to

faintest light to dawn
to day. Then night says

in a voice so dark I can
not read its words

What begins as love
passes into love

and from the house next door
to the east of my steps

the moon rises
as from its black chimney