The full moon, foolish, yet
It takes its hovering and
Its haunting seriously as
It shines over the sky and
Beams into our windows.
Every month for twelve, it
Takes its plumpest shape
And beams a bright light
My way. Its effects make
Me foolish as if I had been
There, on the moon's face
Lighter in its atmosphere
Less weighty and serious
Myself, ready to play each
Month in the clear bright
Moonshine of a full moon
Tag Archives: #moon
Winter’s wolf
The sassy moon fulsome and
Full, plump, hanging low in the
Center of my sky, even as the
Morning light begins to clear
Away the night that was never
Truly dark under the shine of
That fat moon or the electricity
From high-rises in its vicinity
Skies at night have no right to
Be so bright, and if they must
Be so, the moon should be the
Only beacon, the only light that
Paves the way, the sassy moon,
The savvy moon, January's light
Looking over
I look over a field of cranes, all
Sprung up over the rooftops to
The west. How high will they
Bring the fence encircling my
Views? New Year's in Central
Park or the ceremonies ahead
Of the marathon won't sparkle
In my living room, if sky-risers
Cut me off. Tall this, big that
Will fill my scenic sights. I will
Have the clouds and the moon
Lunatic
That crazy moon
Winking down
At you at me
Looking to make
Fools out of whole
Cloth of you of me
It's easy to do
When you have
That kind of sway
The power of moon
Dust and magic
I see you shaking
Your head me too
But we know it's true
That crazy moon
Can make us crazy too
By way of apology for my [current] impatience, I dedicate this poem to Burt. (In truth, many of the poems here are dedicated to the guy I love.)
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Tamara, really 