I liked how the moon was low
hanging fruit on the newly
budding tree.

The blossoms seemed to
reach out, blindly grasping
for another tree's fingers,

fruitless, but the blues
of the sky
got in the way.

Be-be-be-because, he starts,
stutters breaking words apart,
intoning what he’d overheard;
it’s painful listening, like darts

prying loose repeated words.
Naught’s amiss, we say, the birds
they laugh at us, ignored lampoons
and bullies’ taunts, how absurd.

He sits and watches his cartoon-
two mice who call a cat buffoon
I hate mieces to pieces!* shouts
Jinx the cat; it ends too soon.

Our son despises school, flat out.
We believe him, there’s no doubt,
But he’s a well-adjusted sprout
But he’s a well-adjusted sprout.

That secret place in my brain
where my soul sleeps
when the beast
of depression
comes out.

When the
black beast
of depression
does come, it's
simply death while living.

Getting fat
Off the ****
Jihadi gras

Winter tide
She sits beside me
     The seashore

Moths frozen to the bark
of hundreds of trees
thaw in the warmth of the day.

By nightfall,
crescent moonlight
shines on dust motes

crucified to wood.

Specks glimmer,
beginning to hatch-

lime-green luna moths
unfold

from wingdust eggs,

edging off of oaks,
enchanting

the night skies,

in search of sap
or cinnamon.

By lighted sliver
they feed

on sugars
and moonbeam
stopping only to freeze

nights later,
fluorescent

bodies,

dust to dusk,
whispering along,

to the soft soughing
of pines.

Her scent- a supernova
Wafting with bells on
Come hither, come hither
A subtle pheremonal display
Lust, love, instant attraction
Racing hearts in sync
And we were madly, so madly.
Hand in hand
Wandering whitened cobblestone
Owing it all to the moon
Exhilaration and spontaneity
My eyes targeting hers like a bullseye
An unbreakable pining gaze
Hops and falling deep
Elbows on scarred wood
An empty universe
Except for you and me
Liquid angel- entrancing
Beguiling me, enticing me
What a mere drop used to do
Before the binary stars exploded.