Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Lunar Sestets Sextet


Any given day
A moon’s there to see,
Someone’s bound to cry,

Moon! Moon! Get away.
Powdered faces bother me.
And the moon slides down the sky.


Moons just go to show,
Midnight to high noon,
The pointlessness of display.

What’s important’s here below.
Why go on about a moon
With nothing to say?


A moon in a tree
Shines a pocky kind of lie,
Cold pretending to come close,

Sweet face tilting in to see,
Sly, pretending to be shy.
A romantic moon’s morose.


It’s unimportant, it’s true,
To observe a moon at play.
Moons set nothing free.

Today’s moon shadows are blue,
As if atmospheres could stray
In seas of tranquility.


The moon is an empty prize
Reopened by those who know.
We’re going back to the moon!

We should at least try!
Who’d rather arise and go
Too late than arrive too soon?


The moon is a fact that slays
Each idea on bended knee,
Each mind that wants to ask why.

A moon says it never pays
To look up to make a plea.
Look down. Waves wink in reply.

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