Melancholy Moon

Moon Day.

Monday is my blue day

Sage smoke and

Hopeful Rain and Moving

As a Racing River

Easy as a stiff lower back

Bowing over bended knee

Penning some passing

Eager practice unfolding

The split and waning

Unlatching pattern

Unstring Me Monday

Meet me in my sister’s Moon

Between the blades

Inside the Red tent

Come monday

I”ll be rested

The glow of glory

Shining from my eyes.

Blue Wednesday.

I am blue wednesday

Two pens lying thin

On a half empty page

Words weeping, words hoping

I AM WISHFUL THINKING

Like everything will be okay

Abstract.

I am a beautiful collection of incongruent, endearing ideas.

strung together by punctuation, sincere in my delivery

I am intensity all of the time, even when I’m sitting

There is a vivid vision in my eyelids, the dome of my skull

dreams inside and yearns, sinks deeper

to a time when poems were crazy

and i married the shadow

so far risen and gone

from stable front steps painted red

even I have become a hallucination in my head

I look beautiful in off white, never quite a bride

Amen.

There is a king whose skin is blue

And a woman wearing bells

The two have been taking communion

In the bedroom of my chest

Comma.

I will be here

Tending to the weeds

And always looking towards the ivy

For black smoke and autumn musk

I'll seek you by the fireside, when the leaves have all fallen

And the world is still and brown

I'll bring you a mug and meet you

In wooden chairs we will sit

And smile and talk and laugh

And I'll probably cry,

To Tess.

I hope you fall in love one more time

Before I see you go

I hope you learn to cut the existing ties

And be open to everything new

The air moves here

Leaving behind the in between

It’s flight, this flavored longing

And the giving in

We stubbed our toes on broken glass

Our blood is everywhere, floating

Red wings in the river

Everything we take is inside us

So take it all

Affair.

I know nothing about you

Except for your mouth

I look drunk with this

Bouncing breath

Against your perfect chest

Your body is magic and I hate it

Perhaps i.

Perhaps i could be a beautiful thing

A collection of parted hairs

And split lips lusting

Luscious pink and panting

Behind my office door

Doing little else but chores

Trying to enjoy my down time

I fell pressed like a bad lime

Juicy sticky and puddling

Like a reflection pool

Where I catch my blurry face

And I stop sucking

On the opinions

Melancholy Moon.

Melancholy moon

Sinking deep

Reflected in a window

And I awe at it

Like it’s really you

What is this bookstore shelf

My hands straighten

Fingers to each out of place spine

At night I lose the feeling

Of sunlight in my skin

And I swallow the contrasts

I am resigned sometimes

To the blue in my womb

A wave just breaking

An inanimate object saying,

Pick me. Move me out

Again end again

If that’s what you want to do.

I am working and wearing

Tough and tired as the blackest lace