Sunday, December 12, 2021

Postprandial Appetite

five plus two is seven
see the songlines in the heavens
stars in a line dividing
bisecting the milky way
routes across the night clear
machete away the undergrowth
shrubby clouds scud across the moon
pearly gleaming cold lantern illuminates
lights this lacuna in the earth
calico whispers only visible in motion
like chimearae in the benthic deeps of the ocean
prowling about the cold winter ground
round junipers, creosote and burial mounds

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Fin of Mays

Oh Moon please hear my fondest wish turn my earring into a microwave dish: I'd aim it at the Pamir Knot if I were made into a robot! ...