Some older stuff

too much today

stop
it
now

your time your

in-
sinuating themselves

heart burning
frets

worries of then

pushed

into

too much yesterday

lets
it in
forcing open

or beget ghosts of then

to populate our
[infinitely]

small present



Crying the Moon

When you were a child you reached for the moon,
could not quite grasp it, failed to understand
or read its distant dial, not yet seeing
the taunting, pock-marked smile -
a dish of secrets.

So you cried for what you might not own,
the love of this and many other things
unattainable to probing fingers
pushing hard the gates of reason,
the what and why and how

forcing boundaries, unaware
as yet of their existence. Yes, you cried,
wanting that orb of light for a charm
but still it hung, a silver-leaf icon
placed there as if to tease.

Now, so far on, the moon has changed its face.
You cannot grieve for what you cannot have.
It's all too much, too far and anyway
the mystery is solved. The bootprint's stamp
remains; a fat lip planted on the mask
of a treasure that you once held dear.

Note: With the exception of Don't Let Yesterday Use up Too Much of Today, all other poems featured here are from my recent collection, This is not a Sonnet.