Sometimes a title says it all.
This is: I wrote this super-fast on the occasion of the super-moon
“Moon of my Delight”.
An age recorded soundbite.
I echo out from time to time.
Listening for any sign.
From way out… there.
Nothing comes by or care.
That satellite line: “Moon of my Delight”.
Then in the woods last night,
As night was closing,
The sea was dozing,
Riding on a frosty leaf did fly,
A beautiful whisper in reply.
Like an astronomer first hearing a message from static light-years.
Stumbling, unable to comprehend what suddenly clears.
“Moon of my Delight”
Goddess from starlight
Tore forward the infinite sky
On a golden chariot from high
Called “Gloria!”
And the breeze it swept chorused “Gloria!”
Crescent wings in long, moondril hair
Bodice made of moon white bone
Luna and Juno nestled in bustier
She lashed at the two galloping, silver steeds
Rearing their heads, crazed eyes, manes wild as trauma
Foaming constellations from their bridles
They skid a scorch across my view, to a crystalline halt
Weaving forth a wave of space colour behind
Splashing great fans of painted lurid vibrancy
Crashing behind the vision above me
Like rough waves crashing against shore breaks
She: on awesome acid sprayed canvas
Above me, on my back.
Rhymes no longer mattered.
Wide eyed, I looked up.
She drew death gilded leaves around me.
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