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the_moon
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.nom
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in kamloops, 1982or3?,
it must have been
following us, the moon
i remember, riding in the car
face against the window, watching
the moon, i remember, it following us
on our way to church, in costumes
my parents had made, a play, i remember
the moon, i was trying to figure it out,
how it was, how i was, how everything
was, and i remember, i loved my costume
and all the costumes,
stars and angels
getting out of the car,
looking up at the moon
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050217
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... |
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Fido
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o I love the spelndrous moon!
its wondrous backside
makes poets swoon!
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050217
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... |
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Fido
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o I love the splendrous moon!
its wondrous backside
makes poets swoon!
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050217
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... |
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globalfruitbat
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one of my first full sentances: "moon in 'ky, Dada"
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050218
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J Kessler
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punny my good Fido, punny!
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050218
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log burning fire
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is so beautiful tonight.
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121214
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Bizzar
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how sad it must be
to glow so brightly
to light up the world beneath you
the space around you
to bathe the darkness in luminescent beauty
but to see none of it
to save none for yourself
you light up the lives of so many
but you cannot light up your own
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220222
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raze
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i couldn't find it last_night. but i knew it was somewhere below the horizon, growing back into its fullest self while i did my best to shrink into something small enough for sleep to embrace.
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220905
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tender_square
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i stumbled in wedges over mounded-up potholes, my fingers fluttering moths against a bright screen typing goodnights. i didn't want to return to the place i've been avoiding; the somber streets swallowed me. i could only see a couple steps ahead. i must've looked drunk in the half-moonlight, swaying and pausing to the music my love and i make through the give and take of words.
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220905
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... |
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Bizzar
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Sometimes love is a slow burn, starting as a flicker, a spark, an ember. It needs breath, energy, something to feed it to allow it to grow into a steady flame, and care to keep it burning. It’s beautiful to admire, to watch grow. It dances as things move by it, casts shadows on everything around it. And without care, is easily extinguished. Other times, love is an explosion. It creeps in where it’s least expected, ravaging and consuming everything in its path, the way a virus spreads rapidly through the cells of its host, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.
And him? He was an event horizon. And my light was helpless against his gravity.
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221109
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what's it to you?
who
go
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blather
from
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