the moon is a different thing to each of us

the moon is a different thing to each of us

A giant orb many miles away

hovering over lifestyles of the poor and pathetic

who wish their turmoils away

on your sister–

heavy stars

and brother lucid dreams

asking moon in and moon out

what it all means?

the answer to the question

i think i (sometimes) have it figured out

but is it my job here to

tell you what it’s about?

the lingering

the feeling

the gesturing and gesticulating

the awful, terrorizing, yet frigid

naked piece of the dealings

a lost soul

a lost cause

in this deluge moment i find myself

withering away from love


and then in balance:

I’ve seen the cycles of the moon

the ebb and flow

the in and out

the wisdom of eons have (and continue to) crush

my doubt

Now i’m here

now i’m there

in your blood stream


I say thank you

I say fuck you

I’ve given you the eye on the subway to let you know I hate you–

but then the tide gives me strength

she mirrors my internal functions

my hidden organs

she is the ancient refuge that brings spiritual abortions

i’ve deadened those parts of me

those black parts of my soul

i’ve learned enough in this lifetime to let much of it go

Still I want to know more

but i’m afraid it’s all too much

is that what i’m really afraid of?

or is it the delicate touch

of your knowing hand, the gentle sway

the beckoning and cooing of a newborn baby

The monthly rebirth draws it out both emotionally

and physically

the endless loop of acceptance

and gentry–


the moon is a different thing to each of us

the blood of youth warns us

the son of man destroys us

but undercover and in prayer

She loves us


Thank you for giving us


and for leaving out the rest

of us

to discover


and that, for me loves, is enough.


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