The moth flies in circles,
Forever distracted by the light.

Surely it must be the moon,
Telling it where to go.

Yet as long as it remains on,
The moth shall never escape.

For it is in the moth's nature
to always follow the light.

Until the time comes
that the moth is not but ash.

It's pouring rain and my backpack is full of strawberry kefir.
I think when we decided to take a break,
you took half my brain with you.

Kefir is a delightful crossbreed of Yop and Perrier. Creamy sublingual fireworks. A single tablespoon is sufficient to send a conga line of 5 billion probiotic bacteria boogying through your innards. But like most things I enjoy, I cannot successfully covet in small, measured portions. Which is why I went for the litre in the first place.

I imagine your face as I rinse my strawberry saturated belongings and imagine the microscopic bacterium hoopla happening between my fingers (you would laugh at my conga line comparison, because you are one of the world's only people who knows how much I truly despise conga lines).

Oh God, the water is just diluting the yogurt. It has become the great Sea of Kefir.

You would have the solution to this. When it comes to logic, you manage to beat me every time without ever making me feel intellectually inferior.

But I need to figure these things out for myself.

Luckily my other groceries were sealed in plastic:
-chia seeds
-goji berries
-cacao nibs
-wheatgrass

These were spared.

As you can see, since we have decided to embark on our own paths for a while, I have tried to be "HEALTHY!". The bathroom is a small library of moth-bitten self-help books (Thanks, Mom) and my bedtime is close enough to twilight to high-five the sun on its way down.
I've started to work out again with a little more addiction than conviction or even common sense.
And because you aren't here to regulate me, I've busted my knees (aaaa-gaaaain.)

And all notwithstanding, as I wandered down 13th avenue with my organic Hippie super-loot, feeling very smug and self-possessed in my birkenstocks, I passed by my favourite breakfast joint, and my kale-fertilized stomach was very persuasive: No, I insist.

Proceeded to savour three enormous pancakes that I could have stitched together to form a roomy buckwheat overcoat. Drowned them with a 3pm coffee. I thought nothing of it, but after all we've been through when it comes to food, you would have been so proud of me, babe. When I admit that I've got a broken heart (-darling, I know I broke my own) people are far too kind to me. 110 minutes and three sacks of flour later I float in a sweet gluten haze from my free (and freeing) lunch back to my apartment.

Which is when I discover the Sea of Kefir.

I think I'm trying too hard.

I think, really, the Art of Becoming One Whole Person isn't so much about us becoming the Perfect People we've always wanted to be. That's not why we strapped a hundred helium balloons to our otherwise incredible relationship and tearfully waved as it disappeared over the horizon. I think it's really about just learning how to regulate ourselves.

Here's one Truth: We will never, ever be perfect. And we will never find our perfection in each other. We have to let that go. We have to stop fighting against the invisible standards we create in each other.

But we can get over ourselves enough to be Pretty Great.
Just make peace with the Pretty Great folks we are. Have the 3 pancake- sore knee- kefir backpack afternoons, and still feel Pretty Great.

And when we do, I think our relationship will feel Pretty Great, too.

Because I'd rather be able to remind myself that I'm Pretty Great,
than rely on you to convince me I'm Perfect.

Yikes, there it is.

So that's my homework. It's full of errors, and there are countless agitated holes worn through by pink erasers, self-doubt, and heartache.

But I know, darling- that by the end of this, you'll give me a sticker-

(and by then I wont need it)

I'll put it right next to the one I've given myself.

single flame in dark
brighter than one hundred eyes
peering through bushes

I'm here to get broken,
to be torn into pieces.
Discarded on the floor.
I found you so I could be remade,
Built up from nothing,
so you could make me more.

Break my heart,
burn my soul,
scar my history
with yours.

Glass fragile and brittle.
Prone to watch you pout.
I want moth eaten dreamscapes,
but I just keep bleeding out.
I'm tied to this iron ball and chain,
drowning like you need me to.
Writhing here in pain.

Feed me your bitter poison, love.
Bleed me with your leeches.
Push me, dear. Push and shove.
I wash away like chalk,
Temporary and incomplete.
I need you, sweet Hemlock.

Don't ever leave.

Can I pick your brain
Off the record
I got the blues
But it's not cause I don't have green
Don't knock it till you tape it
You see
I couldn't exorcise a demon
But I entertained an angel
He warned me of the secret destroyers
But without a name, a face
How do we keep the facts straight
God can land in any body at any time
And so can his other half
The dark master in white
Lays a thin-veiled canopy
Turns day into a moonless night
Had a lethal conversation
With a top-hat man
In a public place
And I can't get his smug grin
Out of my mind
Nostalgia's just bitter
Intoxicated by the trees
And these god-fearing people
Make it feel like voodoo
Religious machinery
And sunburnt souls
I'm so lost
What is deep and what is death
What is bottom when it's cold liquid
Not rock
Amnesia
Cruel euthanasia
It came
It conquered
It had my eyes for a moment
Then it was gone
I just want to go to the place
Where there is no truth
Cause there is no judge
One-legged animals
That somehow get around

i had a great big moth flying round the light
attracted by  bulbs that were very bright
flying round round as busy as can be
he was rather noisy and annoying me
so i got some hairspray to chase the moth away
but his wings went stiff  i am sad to say
this it made him quiet and from the light he fled
but he couldnt fly he had to glide instead
now the moth was quiet and couldnt fly no more
all that he could do was glide around the floor

she pirouettes on the edge of shadows
dancing in the light
danger lurks in dark corners
beauty unappreciated
the only colour in the room
seen only as a meal
begging for the trap
of silken ropes tied tight
around a beautiful body
so life can be snuffed out
I take my shower and watch
should I intervene
or let nature take it's course

That's not who I am
I'm built of burning wood
And hacked off pieces of granite deemed
Too coarse for cobble stones

That's not who I am
I'm nobody's child
I built myself through a muddled
Community of moth wings

We never tasted sugar, never felt the rosy clothes'
Crushing flesh, blushing chosen lyrics
******* swallows and cheating sucklers
Cold, sunken, green with no choice

That's who I am - my own monster
Stitched from what I liked, stuck with our greasy wick
I blended myself, found my backbone
In the granite sifted and spat away

You can't name me, I get that right
To bore myself in your thick skull
You gave me over to the frost the day I forgot what
Stupid people said I should love

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Luna Moth

The moon does not in fact wax anything,
She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours

She loves

In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?
                                                We do.

My mother is a spider.
Carefully crafted webs fill my childhood home.
With great care, she weaves day and night,
trapping her family inside.
We struggle but only doom ourselves further.
I am a fly,
buzzing as I wrap myself in her silken strands.
My sister is a butterfly,
flapping her wings as the webbing pulls off her beautiful scales.
My brothers are bees
who once sought bright flowers and hives of others like them.
My father is a moth,
guided to the web’s shimmering light.
Now, we all lie still, drained of life,
slowly being consumed by the weaver.

I want to rip my bellybutton open
(tear through the ****** mess of fibers,
the knots of lies I’ve woven,
and the constricting seams that stitch me up)
because I tore off a piece of my soul
buried it deep down inside
and left it to suffocate in the cotton filling,
screaming and shouting
beneath the padding
till it’s voice began to fray—
moth-eaten.

They never said it would be easy.
Dived head first with my guard down,
Like a moth into the flame.
I wanted all of you to feel me;
So I burnt myself to the ground,
Just to hear you scream my name
One last time.

And I'd do it again,
and again and again-
Ignite myself for you, and darling
I'd feel no shame.
I'm a forest fire for your love.
And I'm burning
Everything I touch.

I thought you leaving would be the hardest thing to go through,
But it was me, standing there
Walking away from you.
Like a moth to a flame, I am captured by your light.
The irrevocable longing I feel towards your essence,
Is what frightens me when I leave your side.
I fear not of losing you,
But of you losing me
To your greater journey into the light.
In fact, I even feel like you are superior to me
The way coffee is stronger, more bitter than tea.
Walking away on a cold winter's day,
Is more bone chilling than the snow that coats our bodies.
Kissing you goodbye, too soon for now
Your sweet embrace, embellished by sorrow,
Imprinted on my heart but stained with love.
Letting you leave,
I had to let you leave.

Moth-babies rock the window’s pane
but I see through their translucent bodies at night,
wearing a handful of dirt. It is the pattern

of paisley and unsorted laundry in a basket –
or ice having shattered azure.
Maybe these are butterflies so traumatized by the

Earth, its lackluster cocoon.
I whisper for them to worm inside my bedroom –
jump off the wooden Alps, get in bed

and munch on the hair from my husband’s head
for he is holding still. He is asleep.
They will touch like fairies scraping stars for

their dust, married for three years to a dull glow.
We cannot have opaque babes, oh my life stamped
freckles where lungs are intended to breathe.

Here we go, here we go,
Round and round again,
Same mile markers, same land mines,
Running like a mobius strip.
Have we not learned to jump ship?
Have we not seen the signs?
I always thought we'd never be here,
On the opposing sides of a think line,
When was it that I kept moving forward --
And left you behind.
I can feel your gaze on my neck,
It's boring down my spine.
Won't you see through my viewfinder,
See this upside down landscape
All the homes falling, falling, falling,
From your face rivers running
Fast and furious, ferocious forget-me-nots
Finding failing facets of faith --
Can I ever believe in us again?
I wish my mind would whip me into shape,
Searing lines of us into my truth,
Make a believer out of me,
Ever following your holy footsteps,
All the way across county line
Tracing into California, promised land.

But I am no herded sheep
Bah bah humbug, my little one
I will not flee from wolves with snarled teeth,
I will not be cuddled into a cage.
I am a moth in love with your flame,
Drawing me to my fiery grave.
Well, I'd love to crash and burn with you darling,
But I have dreams of kissing the sky,
And with my fragile wings I'll fly away
Oh glory, I'll fly away.
Do not reach for your butterfly net of guilty conscious,
You will not catch me this day.

But baby, baby, in my bones I'm breaking,
A bitterness -- I was born to love you.
But you so love your chains,
You prophesied they would choke your love,
You wrote the writing on the wall,
You foretold the end of everything,
But I saw it long ago,
Hidden in hazy half-truths,
And I tripped on the seed of doubt that was planted.
And oh, I've watched us fall apart in
Ten thousand different ways,
Each piece more jagged than the last,
Drawing pictures in my blood,
Sidewalk art for hopscotch and lost hope,
Held in the ground.
I'll build a shrine to this lost love of mine,
Candles, pictures, a vile of tears,
Surrounding our hearts buried below.
Dead flowers strewn across the floor,
I'm picking their petals with poisoned precision.
He loves me, he loves me not...

He loves me, and I love him,
But at this hour, in this place,
It didn't pass the test,
Our love must rest.
Let its grave be a wellspring of new growth,
Let us water it with compassion and understanding,
That it might rise a fresh garden,
Someday, somewhere, somehow.
I will diligently tend.
I will not lose sight of those soft, soulful eyes,
That first drew me closer, closer...

May you always feel my hand pressing into yours,
May you always feel my love surrounding you,
And may we meet as new spirits soon.

She had enough.

They poured her a cup again.
They had given her all -
Advice, punishment and pain.
They still went for her soul.

They said it’s a scary world
And locked her up inside
With curtains in which to fold
And walls to chain her mind.

They said her dreams were futile
And scripted all her days.
They sneered when she was fragile
And ***** her in all ways.

I found her so moth-eaten
And from all fighting, tired.
She could not bear to listen.
She had enough, she said.

I don’t blame her for what she did later.
She had enough.

It’d be effortless like the sun setting herself,
She’d just be, natural and luminescent,
Waves of cascading and flowing radiance,
Like the snow melted and she was left,
So warm and soft and human,
Making it hard to look and breathe,
Fascinatingly enticed like a moth to flame,
She would be chaos and destruction incarnate,
But no one would realize it,
Those little, gentle breezes,
Carnivalized into buckling winds,

One look and it’d all make sense,
Fireworks racing toward the skies ringing,
Glass shattering and making mosaics blossom,
Surges of invisible hands,
The feeling of living,
Close to death,

She’d be perfect,
So dastardly so,
That she couldn’t be real,
That’d just ruin it.

When I resort to images the real beloved disappears
Whatever remains in my red eyes are my just tears
In her wonderful company I am like with soothsayers
In her absence I am surrounded by lot many fears

What a trust and what is love I just can not explain
It travels like pain in my body just chain after chain
It is like a love dance just in monsoon drizzling rain
Love is a matter of heart which has nothing to brain

Faith in love is like a particle of sand in the waves
Like a moth strangling in the deep,and dark caves
What we can expect from the relation of the knaves
What an insanity we are searching truth in the graves

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
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after Alexandra Leaving, a song by Leonard Cohen

<>

to go where?

to a city self-consuming in madness,
giving every excuse to stay, and yet,
it came to me just now when the poet
must be leaving his redoubt, with doubt,
and return to the concrete and anomie
of a different kind of splendid isolation

when the last leaf meanders slow down
to the battlefield, and the falling terminado,
and the tree branches are stick figures, each
finger pointing skyward in an j’accusing manner,
accussing & conceding defeat, begging for mercy,
their pleadings too much for me to bare and bury

when green has been wiped clean, and deleted
from the dictionary of colors, my moth eaten soul,
can no longer be granted a stay of execution by
merely looking at the landscape and seascape
to admire their friendly contrasting schemes,
their installation in me of the awe of a visual
quietude, that was an astonishing injection
not truly appreciated till now, too late and
still early, the awe colorations of nature’s vibrancy

The gods have come, my soul hoisted upon their
broad shoulders, the dead-appearing tree branches
can no longer keep their poet safe, hold him back from
meeting his fate; now, he too is a leaving but
floating upward, unlike like the fallen crowds that have
come to rest upon the soil that born them, now to be buried,
all saying: Goodbye Island Poet leaving,

Island Poet
has no poem, no good understanding, no vision,
had no plan, no foresight, only a hope against hope,
that safety was/is not seasonal, Van Morrison reminds,
“These are the days of endless summer,”are memories,
to be held onto tightly, until when if I pass muster, angels
will return to my island abode, where my natural friends
will greet me again, with a flowering and new births,
and The Island Poet can once again revel in ideas in words like
future, sanity, when boarding the ferry with a one way ticket smile.

What to say?
When the quiet mind speaks.
Outer world
From the inside.

When the quiet mind
Acts gently
And patches aren’t so red anymore.

When the quiet mind
Spheres more
Into vision
And peripherals shrink
And rest behind the
Telescope.

When to say it?
Thirty three

Who to say it to?
****** up and
Understanding.
Weak and
Lush.
Furrowed brows and
Triangle smile at
Morbidity.

Where am I going?
I’m kaleidoscope eyes
Resting on rafts
Silently floating down a heavy
Trickle
Perched toward the clouds
The wisps of waterfall’s past and infinity.

Will it consume?
Moth wing feelings
Stuck in the melting wax
Of a candle
Settled near a flame.

When you can't rewind the clock nor re-walk the talk
When you can't retouch her heart nor erase it all... the hurt
When you can't order the sun to come again & you're stuck midst storming rain
When you left so much distance between you couldn't re-cable the train
when you can't re-stroll along the boulevard & it aches really bad
when the soul's in need of spring but the melancholy does winter bring
When you can't repaint the art of romance
when you can't ask for another dance
When you're thrown into a trance because you won't get another chance
When the days are pitch black like the dark
When you can't move on yet you can't move back
When your trains gone off the trucks & your once smooth heart's full of cracks
When you're caught up recollecting the shards
but you badly want to eat your words
When you finally realise beans don't taste so bad
neither does swallowing your pride,
when your Mind died soon as your lips lied
When your visage is teary and blurred
When you're thirsty for affection yet can't even attract a single moth of affection  
Because the illumination in your soul's extinguished
When you're so starved & anguished When the romance blooms are painfully consumed by the cankerworms of doubt
When all songs seem sung and all poetry written  
When you're tired of dying inside and want it all out
When you can't even define reasons for your fallout
& you want to manacle your thoughts to stop them from running about
When you're bleeding a lot and nobody cares
when you need to be nursed but nobody dares
For who can nurse a wounded wild beast
Instead of watching it die and have a feast?
When everyone knows you're a heartless lion
And none offers you a warm chest to lie on
When you're forced to pretend that you're fine
because it's impossible to verb the pain
For the ache is beyond what speech can explain
When you're actually dying inside
& you want nobody to know because only nobody understands
When you want to rewind time and rewrite the story
but "That's impossible" says karma, "I'm sorry"
When no amount of liquor can uplift
& loneliness is your nature's daily gift
*When the dawn seems totally gone & you finally realise no body can love you the way she did
Not even she herself... for the affection was so intricate
& so out of the galaxy even she can't replicate
When you wish you would run away from your own memories
For they have burnt your emotional calories
When you're the epitome of melancholy and allegories
Of a perfect story of a love that was promising
When she's the only thing you can't stop reminiscing
That's the day you should ever say you understand how I feel
For you would have tasted a little of the heat in my shoe and burn on my heel

Crystal tears in beams of the ethereal triangle. (Moth)
Leave gleams of cosmic rays of colors new from all angles
Crying trying to hug a moth.  
As Crystal tears fall on sacred cloths.
Benighted Bug embraced in hugs
Wings are spread to hold one snug:
Deepens the sorrow,
smiles be smug
Deeply sad
happy songs sung
Deep so deep in altered states fun
Deep like your hole that was never dug.
For this is why thy is sobbing yet numb.
So missed, so loved
this head in dread hung.
Hysteric screams loud left ears that rung.
Mourning love on lavish lush.
Perhaps hard drugs
gleam in this rug.
Like Twinkle stars in eyes of lights bug.
Flutter now precious one.  
That moment has come.
For that cosmic lights in the night sky has shun.
Fly off now and thrive
Through Blessed skies twilight.  
Omega trifecta disjecta in white.
Disregard all  life’s ill lies
Project Past false folly worlds not wise.
Omega trifecta eternal cant die.  
Clothed in robes on moths back we ride
  Purple eyes On wings spread so wide.  
Protected With swords
worn on there sides
Giants enlightened
with violet sash tied
Guide these rides like blades on arm right
through chaos harmonized untwined.
be three inside when doors thy find.
Under cat pelt black mat
Crystal white key sleeps and  hides.  
Unlock bone carved door,
to obscure and pure life.
Flesh cold on *** gold,
Twist it like Pyrex pipes.  
Arived
Arived
Looks dead
Though alive
Triangle portals for immortals to rise.
  In bliss gnostic gifts of the purest of kind.
alive in parallel paths that have died.
Blind not the light,
as black sun in sky rise.
Omega trifecta disjecta drenched white.  

Insanity
123
Triangle eyes  
Upon moths wings.  
Insanity
123
How nice was it for you visiting.
Insanity
123
Lovely wings now wave to thee
Insanity
123
Love has come
Love will not leave.
Insanity
123
Of three
Triangles dance like seas.
Insanity
123
White it be
of love
of 3.

Burn forever has this flame.
Insane deranged the mental state.
Delirium comes
And is here to stay.
Now in the dark filthy room,
the schizoid hides away.
In Torment
in dormant
Destroy rituals save.
Healed by the hand
Upon masters embraced.
Purify soul
Preserve culture and race.
Clean blood the last goodness
left in this wretched place.
Yet still in stillness
stagnant turns blue in veins
Bloodletting not upsetting
Blades sway without pain.
As well as chop lines
Upon mirrors for days.
Twisting Pyrex orbs like a game
As well as starve self in sacred ways.
As well as smoke finest of *** never laced.
As well as this huffing to **** cells In brain.
The alcohol be it the final Intake.  
Rituals so official for healing in this hate.
Destroy
Create
Destroy
Create
Sleep deprived
for up to thee days.
Final hours
bring forth meat and champagne.
Replenish the ugly shell carbon based
Starved for many days
Sacrifices made done safe
Acts watering spirit
Sacred like this self inflicted pain
Be it in ethereal place
Where insane becomes sane.
Clean the mirrors like spirits slate.
Awaken here to rise.
Eyes alive appearing crazed
laughs upon the sad estates.
Fear all clear has disappeared
Nearly forgot the name
again please come play
like the sun does in may
Cloaked with veils soaked,
like the bed lovers lay.
Cloaked in veils soaked
With inhuman healing rain
Cloaked in veils soaked
Through shadows in thick smoke.
Abstract absurd croaks,
hang from yellow ropes.
Oh strange these roads
magicians go.
Zero fear crystal clear
With senses unknown
It is upon the humans where Paranoid confused madness cripples all life.
Where the eyes of the rubber skinned demons flutter like fast as hummingbird wings.
No logic or sense
reality has shattered.
Machanical animals glitch out like brains splattered
Oh the inner urge to stab synthetic creatures
Oh to destroy Gears and chips inside that “raccoon”
Oh to have oil drop off this sharpened knife
How the **** can one ****
That which is not even alive
Malevolent smiles on people on all sides
These are the things
these eyes have seen
Enough now on obsessing
on that which is now cleansed.
These are the reasons this obscure life be led.
These be the reasons these practices one tends.
These be the reasons for the drs meds
These be the reasons one ***** up this head.
These be the reasons that one is not dead
For these sacred acts in fact have fed spirit and flesh  

Dancing and laughing now through storming waves of chaos seas
Immortal threes ride storms through dark nights.

Until Timelessness be kind with bliss.
These moments will be missed
For the horror be done.
For the flesh be at rest.
Silk was a voice that little wings said.
For fabulous readings
Whispers to heart In chest.
Last lovingly gesture
face gently corresed
Kissing soft wings as the honored guest left.
Gracious be glorious gifts that were sent.
For a  radiant cosmic ray is shun
A Glowing beam bright as the sun.  
Open ethereal triangle windows up.
Fly far now back to lands you are from.
to gaze into ethereal triangular windows.
Free forever eternal have fun
be a triangular window.  
Oh how now to frolic.  
Within Crystal palace.
Oh how to drink from the purest of chalice.
Oh how now to frolic  
Do not stop it
Obnoxious
be not this calling.
Laugh and prans  
as if you have lost it
sheen as if polished.
Which  gleams like gold lockets
Soft the Royal purple carpets.  
Dance in trancemusic of inhuman artists
Terror tamed and disregarded.
of black and laced scarlet
Parallel white
Blackness falls.
Gone unto the sacred arts.
Beaming rays in callused  hearts.

Hard telepathic readings.
The physical health was releasing.
Now physical health is at full regeneration.
Regression
Regression
Regression
In threes
In these
Darkest light in vibrant scenes.
Walk the chaos fields
Laugh at this disease.
In threes
Your triangle
Your embrace please.
Speaking through the cosmic seas.
yes blood as flesh are with thee.
All moments of timeless times.
We both dismantled time and logic.
Witnesses of chronic tauntings.
Together cold hands at hops frolic.
Disability in the humans life
Keeping wits as sharp as knifes.
Laugh with thee
In three
Hahaha
Hahaha
Hahaha
Far to gone
Walking along with zero fear at all.
Within you now all distress is regressed.
You are immortal and free.
You speak through moths and trees.
Transcend the logic of all human beings.  
Beyond the sane and tamed.
Oh severely was such un heard of pain.
humans of hate and horror in black corners.
Chaos in eternal be harmony.
Through delusions
Through evil illusions.
Still immortals storm the insane vespers.
In m
Aquarius being of untouchable boundaries.
Virgo being of untouchable boundaries.
These moons

**** trying to word or logically read.
We’re born of the purest lights.
found in the darkest of seems.
Insane
In pain
In collapsed yet precious veins.
Insane
In pain
Happiness on earth not aloud.
Happiness in far away bliss.
Oh how the dread impails when such is missed.
Eternal
In white
In ligh in black
Laugh with thee as the wretched attack.
In purity
With purple sash on white robes
In light in darkness harness you will be loved and whole.
Still shovels crave to dig six foot holes.
Still death appears in the faces of the cold.
Love fortold in the hopelessness like mold.
Oh telepathic wanderer of true purity.
Eternaly
Your purity and loving being
Eternal shall your light be strong.
Your love in lungs as one rips bongs.
Of three you and thee
Of night
Of light
No more fright
For blackness has led them to might that is white.  
For love from the purest has held out inhuman hands.
Forever infinite beyond imagination of man.
Forever gnostic callings in not so human lands.
Crystal tears beam in ethereal triangle (moth)

She Let A Moth Drown In the Lake

She let a moth drown in the lake,
Waves taking stackars* little thing
Further than her oar could reach.
Standing on beach, cupped eye,
Squinting, trying…
Moth was gone.
Death had won.

Just so you know I do no lie,
That ‘she’ was I.
I am the wimp who hesitated.
Fear of depth, of cold, of wet.
Excuses inexcusable.

Death of moth, still flapping moth
Is just as undeserving as our own demise.
Pedestrian, prosaic, commonplace,
Disgusting,
Yet compulsively discussable.

All living things delight in life-ness.
While they move and throb the slightest,
They delight.
Who takes a life by standing by
Will also die.
It is essential, is it not, to cry,
Identify with kin?
Kin hereby meaning ‘life within’.

Left with remorse and shame
She self-condemns,
She takes the blame.
She hopes some force
That knows the individuality of moth
Shows sympathy in rebirth
In some future form that has a breath.

So be it, Om, Amen to Earth!

She Let A Moth Drown In the Lake 6.14.2020 Birth,Death & In Between II;Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Nature II;Pure Nakedness;Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover, Corwin

*stackars; Swedish; ‘poor thing’

I do
but i dim switches
Jilling Jack and much else
smelting the river
of black nectar
your heaving *******
have rest
upon.

Ooze the Unforgivable night
a shade less bleak
than a Season
Of open
wounds.

Sell me your secrets;  and I'll be the one
to arrive, electric
tripping on your
scene

like a moth
to a blink
And
otherwise.

Enamored of the light that shines from you
She's captured; as a moth drawn to a flame
Surrender bids sweet innocence adieu
Existence nevermore to be the same.

The rapture she had not been taught to seek
Delirious for him; her eyes implore
Consumed in heat not witnessed by the meek
She arches back, ******* rising, wanting more.

Wonderment of physical expression
Immaculate, her heart belongs to him
Unconditional; without repression
For his touch, would surrender life and limb.

She whispers this to you, and then no more
"It's only you, my love, who I adore."

© Lin Cava

Expensive handbags,
Pensive listening,
Nothing I say is ever worth
Mentioning.
Swing on this
Hinge-- a see-saw of
Heartache
Bruised on the *** by
The frozen snake--
Never to thaw
And never to break.
Exquisite lampshades
Hide the luminous
Color,
Now a dingy
Dim of disrepair
Order.
Visit a fairytale
Where honey flows in
Waterfalls,
The smooth will soothe the
Heartless work and
Falls.
Tangled cloth again today,
Moth eaten and angled,
We ride in the dark
Convinced our little playground could save
A heart.

I'm an addict for love
feel the heat of a moth
growing closer to flame
my wings already kissed
by growing fire. I live for
the warmth, even as I
burn alive