What would happen if the moon leaked?
Would there be a luminous canal
that flowed with moon milk?
Would we be able to bathe in
a shimmering pool of silver?

By CAConrad

we stopped
     studying the
         night sky for
            directions
    if someone said
      we made it up
        planet Earth
          isn’t real
           we would try
            to verify try
             to be sure
             critics
              are the
               evidence
                we do not
                 trust ourselves
                 your imagination is
           asking for parole
        what is your
verdict Warden
  try to always
    remember the
      calendar made
        of light our
          ancestors
         followed to
       pass the year

the neighbors
peonies are
unfurling
but not ours

the rhodies on main street
are starting to fade
but the in-laws’ row
is in full explosion of color
the one we planted
was taken out by a deer

the blackberry bushes
likely won’t give us
fruit this year
and the peach tree died

but the wild
strawberries
are creeping
through the lilies
of the valley and
towards the mint patch

and every day i look
out my living room
window and am
grateful

admiring the perfect
division of crab grass
down the property line
at least i’ll never
have pedestal planters
full of ornamental grass
or pesticide notices
sent to my neighbors

it can be
bittersweet
admiring someone
else’s garden
when yours
doesn’t look the same

but you have to
work with what you’ve got
and trying to fight nature
is a losing battle

they say to bloom
where you’re planted
but they leave out
a crucial part

some people
don’t bloom

some people
spread
some people
trail
some people
vine
some people
reach

not everyone can
bloom on their own
some people have to
have help to get
dug up in the fall
or fertilized in the spring

some people
do better
in container gardens
some people
are invasive
and need pulling back

and i wish
someone had told me
that it’s less
important to
bloom where you’re planted
and far better
to stop
comparing your
garden
to someone else’s

Man.
Woman.
Ghost.
Little wind in their sail.

Boat.
Watercraft.
Impulse.
Limited space on board.

Free from heart. Free from clothes.
Drunk together for a swim.
Errant, disinterested kiss, planted
under the keel.
A sparse ****** isosceles is struck.
Parts are muted and slit-eyed.
Parts are surface tension.
Parts are counterparts.
She pulls away, running below deck
and vigorously brushing her teeth
before weeping.
The razor of night struggles to sleep.
The sharp object thrown overboard.
No one wants to be first or last.

"We're out of words and moons and stars, there's no tenderness in us..." she said. "When did our love become the stab of ultimatum?"

Eyes that meet as we pass one another,
only our footsteps on the concrete,
silent. . . strangers. . .
Yet an ardent eruption of feelings,
A smoke filled aging bar,
two bodies sweat filled, two souls became one.
Don't ask more of me. . .
for you already know the answer. . .
our time has passed, until we meet in another life. . .
my dear old flame.

a shadeless lamp
lit her face

" i'll teach you how to dream,"
she told me in her room

broken and beautiful
she was 32
red hair
she had freckles
on her *******
and lost eyes
desperate grey
eyes
like a coming storm
offered heartache held in the palm of her hand

her name i can't remember
it was a kind of whiskey
she loved whiskey

she said it again
"i'll teach you how to dream"

but i had surrendered
many times
many years ago
somewhere along
the road
to nowhere

and she passed out during the act
and the rabbit
was dancing in the ditch
and
so i finished

"don't you get it," i whispered
through her snoring

"we were faded
broken

a long
long

time ago"

walking out trailor
the saddest place on earth
is sante fe at sunrise

The lights that flicker in the window
across the foggy sea
seem to whisper of the lives
That were always meant to be
The whispering of a lovers flame
The embers running slow
The fog of grief that seems to linger
Bringing in the cold
I once knew the woman
Who stoked a fire so bold  
But the home remains cold & empty
No jolly sailor bold
but light still flicker
Across the foggy sea
a little mantle to others
those who were never meant to be