dedicated to all of the women~poets here I love not-so-secretly
early to bed, early to rise,
stunned to sleep by a superhero trio,
sunset extraordinaire, food and drink,
but, nonetheless I am awakened
by a poem birthing,
water breaking,
now in full labor, burning borning,
inside a man's womb
full wattage, thus empowered,
the moonlight
nudges me awake at 300am
with something real
halfway between a slap and a tonguing kiss
of pure white ****** light
This night sun has an entourage
clouds in attendance,
attend-dance, exactly,
so many fawning, that the bright light
upon the water, normally a claro path,
tonight, but, just, a moon spot
smudged by the shapes of
cloud interlopers intervening
tween me and she...
(nature is female,
everybody knows that!)
yet, the night sun is so overwhelming bright
that everything is perfect outlined
edged sharp in relief,
the stand of six,
our bedroom guardians,
six oaks strong,
are quiet, at-attention still,
their leafy dress uniforms
perfectly pressed,
as I am too,
at full attention
now I understand why soldiers
award themselves oak leaf clusters
as medals of decoration, bravery
poor man's mind weak with admiration,
plots alternative W courses,
a. Walk on water as invited
b. Wake her with your tongue,
in order to put her back to sleep,
(with your tongue)
c. Write a poem with eye light
d. W-all of the above
unable to decide,
no, that's wrong,
incapable of decide,
I do the bravest act,
self-decorate myself with a
white badge of courage,
go back to sleep,
thinking I should not
drink so much wine on weekends,
but write of love and desire,
moons in July not June,
like the inner kid
wants to
and I look at the title this poem gave itself,
Full Moon Woman Life
wondering where the commas should be placed,
then realize it is all
one word
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
dedicated to all of the women~poets here I love not-so-secretly
early to bed, early to rise,
stunned to sleep by a superhero trio,
sunset extraordinaire, food and drink,
but, nonetheless I am awakened
by a poem birthing,
water breaking,
now in full labor, burning borning,
inside a man's womb
full wattage, thus empowered,
the moonlight
nudges me awake at 300am
with something real
halfway between a slap and a tonguing kiss
of pure white ****** light
This night sun has an entourage
clouds in attendance,
attend-dance, exactly,
so many fawning, that the bright light
upon the water, normally a claro path,
tonight, but, just, a moon spot
smudged by the shapes of
cloud interlopers intervening
tween me and she...
(nature is female,
everybody knows that!)
yet, the night sun is so overwhelming bright
that everything is perfect outlined
edged sharp in relief,
the stand of six,
our bedroom guardians,
six oaks strong,
are quiet, at-attention still,
their leafy dress uniforms
perfectly pressed,
as I am too,
at full attention
now I understand why soldiers
award themselves oak leaf clusters
as medals of decoration, bravery
poor man's mind weak with admiration,
plots alternative W courses,
a. Walk on water as invited
b. Wake her with your tongue,
in order to put her back to sleep,
(with your tongue)
c. Write a poem with eye light
d. W-all of the above
unable to decide,
no, that's wrong,
incapable of decide,
I do the bravest act,
self-decorate myself with a
white badge of courage,
go back to sleep,
thinking I should not
drink so much wine on weekends,
but write of love and desire,
moons in July not June,
like the inner kid
wants to
and I look at the title this poem gave itself,
Full Moon Woman Life
wondering where the commas should be placed,
then realize it is all
one word
July 12, 2014
3:00am
on a tiny isle, moonlight loving, moonlight bathed,
thinking of the women I love,
and love me back with their finery,
their vested bestus,
their words....
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