Harvest moon.
My howling coronary heart—
mouth a masks.
What say you?
The Solar
is aware of nothing.
Solely evening—
my voice raised in it
tall as wheat.
The maize
of your breath.
The physique
betrays us—
so we run.
Nonetheless the moon
bearing infants
above us, waxes
not like the leaves.
Burn on,
saith the timber.
*
Save your self.
*
October, nearly—
ghost moon.
Haunted coronary heart.
No, I gained’t.
The rain slows, reveals
the earthworms
they have been improper—
far tougher to breathe
right here, above earth,
than beneath,
the place the storms
shelter their very own.
*
The guts can’t
assist it—
forgets. Beats
like a chicken
towards the wind,
or the pane.
Slim to none.
Solely its shadow scares
it away.
Unusual, how arduous
it’s to donate—
so we wait.
Lend me your eyes.
Hatchet moon.
Late warmth.
*
Execution moon.
Hanging there
helpless. Do that
on for measurement.
The weatherman
by no means goes exterior.
Grief, a garment
that shrinks every
wash. Scarecrow stuffed full
of hay, newspapers
hawking yesterday.
*
Waste away.
Why not.
Like a stone.
Like a limb.
Like a lamb.
Like a rind.
Take your time.
Like a shore.
Like a sea
or its shell, itself
an ear
listening to the ocean.
Like honey.
Make me.
*
Undergo the salmon.
The dolphin
& the meek.
The whale
who finds the shore
& our poor prayers.
The horse, although broke,
who can’t give up
operating. Why wait.
Half of nothing
continues to be nothing.
What retains
you right here, baying?
Even inside-dogs circle,
tamping down grass
nobody however them
can see.
Undergo
& shelter me.
*
The way it hammers,
the center.
Go, head on
with out me.
For the journey,
jettison nothing.
Let autumn try this—
the way it sheds
garments like a runaway
heading regular north.
*
So chilly, you cry
when the wind
meets your eyes
Right here autumn’s solely
winter in disguise
Solar carved
shiny on the stoop
Say you’re mine.
*
Plague me,
O Lord.
Wound me
just like the worm moon
minimize in two.
Hurricane
& twister me.
Let unfastened
your levees
& the thunder—
the sky stained
with shiny.
Show it.
*
Monk moon.
Alone in a sky
finding out itself.
God’s many
guises—
dervishes, darkened
ballparks.
Synthetic hearts.
*
Go away me be.
Within the metropolis alongside
the freeway a coyote
crawls from beneath
the guardrail—
crouches on hindquarters,
kneels even, like a person
drained as I’m.
*
Let there
be evening—
*
Out my window
a soldier in gown blues
beneath the faint
noon moon
lays a wreath
on a well-kept grave
& with what
arm he has left
salutes.
This poem seems within the November 2024 print version.
