Sunday, March 30, 2008
All that is dust
will glitter in their eyes
all that is broken
will be whole once again
ceased their chatter
a long time ago
as long as the darkness
I am not alone--
Poetry smears the page
like tears falling on green ink
we dance on our own graves
because on paper
we live in the forever country
cherry trees stretch up
into the grand blue reaches;
poetry, fallen, layers
is the dirt that nourishes them
take one more step toward me
and the night will tumble around us
as this world on a spindle
already our clothes are mountains
on the floor next to the dimming light
of our so-called better judgment
chips fall where they might--
pick up the pieces with me
and poetry will be born tonight
and all the million other nights
that will know love
when it sees it.
Top: Does this really need commentary? I think not.
Middle: Going with the 'Loony' or Lunar theme, this is a close up of an area on the darkside of the moon taken by a new satellite called Clementine.
Bottom: The Dark Side of the Moon.