EATING THE MOON
I smell you on my hands.
It has been years since
I’ve seen you, looked
Into your eyes, moved
My mouth to make your name.
My breath begins to catch
fire, sparks on my tongue.
I adjust the light,
Rub my nose, thinking
Of highway 50 through Nevada,
Flat, the loneliest road
In America.
It is no good. I imagine
Us there, floating above the desert,
Inches off the ground, twisting
Like a dust devil through
Our sins, beyond any radar.
We lose our ability to speak.
The sweat of our bodies begins
To glow in the dark.
We are astonished with
Our heat and alert
All emergency services.
We must cool down.
We take desperate measures.
Maybe if we taste the moon,
It will be chill like the night.
We try it...No use.
We eat the moon and commence
To shine. The night wraps
Itself around us, curiously unburdened.
It knows us as it knows stars.
We embrace more tightly.
The tides begin to change.
BEING AS MANY AS LEAVES
Oh this is peaceful.
This light stays when all
Else fades. It is a serious
Pursuit, worthless, yes,
Useless, oh certainly and I suppose
Even boring to some people,
Those ill on the world, drunk
On its ‘nobody’s a long time’,
Sentiment and that heritage
Of, ‘if anybody even attempts
To think deeply about something
They are the sick ones.’ And here
We are driven toward a beautiful
But terrible forest full of dead
Souls unable to be serious about
Anything except the executioner
Returning to darkness and the murder
That goes on in this perfectly
Lovely world.
Listen to them growling.
Let’s go get ourselves born
So we don’t have to deal with these
Things that feel darkness and ignorance.
Fury, boys, let’s give them fury, real FURY.
