Your mouth
curls
  sweet
     Manifested death.
  A gyre of
   eye,

Optic safety
     Sanctuary
A vacant
  mind sweating its
            own existence

                           You might be
               out of finger
                    reach
       Or a hair of
               Silly doom
                      ordained,
              Your grip
                   firm,
               Final.

I only prayed to the moon after it rose beyond
my window, the white sill a frame for waning
crescents and gibbouses--milk-drowned gods
dripping stars as they climbed skeleton branches--
some nights resting behind flood-heavy clouds.
People say the moon has a face, but
I have yet to see it sneer at my sins even as it tastes
my ocean-drop tears, evaporated into sky-bound veils,
brushed along the shadowed craters ...

The moon itself bemoaned imperfections in midnight
wind creaking branch against branch until I woke
slow from sleep--sad light staining my walls
pallid, pale as my own skin, glowing in muted
television shows left running while I dreamt
the moon spilled a star between my ribs--
dim luminescence radiating warm,
and the star, seeping through my pores, thawed
the ice I had prayed to melt in the first place.

You run your fingers across maps
Like you are caressing the cheek
of your dying lover
for the last time

Emerald streams and
bronze, sunbaked trees
      Golden arches
embedded in our hair.
And call to you the serenade of nature, the trees howled,
In perfect equilibrium
                                   My solumn,
                             secluded daydream.
Fixated on the absence of time,
The loss of structure
and chaos so beautifully aligned.

In a pale light the sense is made alike,
W/in a lucid trance between time and being
            The world is halted,
and the psyche is free to roam its unprecedented, formless
Labyrinth of secrets and of
questions,
         Answers are sparse,
But the ambition of men
Tearing monstrously at the
delicacy of these phantom
         quantities
is what keeps the answers hidden,
      And lingering in a patient limbo

Spolied circle stuck rotating
pulsating
to the beat of a drummer
that plays music
even he won’t listen to.
Parachuting little yellow spheres
Tuned in to ****** pop songs
Rubbing out unpleasant thoughts
with cheap wine.
Waking up to sweat-soaked sheets
and a bitter taste on your tongue.

When it was late, and quiet,
And we'd lie in bed in silence
Staring up at the ceiling or
at the shadows on the wall,
Just when I'd think we'd
run out of things to say,
Just when I'd let myself start to drift
toward the peacefulness of unconsciousness,
You'd sigh deeply and plunge head-first
into an existential rant
worthy more of Kafka or Camus
than a half-asleep me.
Me, worried about the absurdity of gas prices,
not the absurdity of life.
And I'd roll my eyes when you'd ask me questions
I'd never even entertained, let alone have the answers to.
And you'd wonder if you'd ever find a meaning,
or a purpose.
And I'd tell you not to worry; to live more in the moment
If there is meaning, you'll find it
If not, you'll define it.
And you'd kiss me gently on the forehead,
And I'd roll over and fall asleep,
But I suspect you'd lay awake for hours after,
Never truly satisfied with the answers I, or anyone else
could ever seem to give you.

And I wonder now sometimes,
If you lie in bed next to someone new,
And ask her the same questions you used to ask me.
Maybe she has better answers.
Maybe she makes you forget about your questions.
Maybe you still lie awake at night,
wondering if you'll ever find what it is you're looking for.

And I still don't have the answers,
And I still don't understand all the questions,
But sometimes I lie awake at night,
Staring up at the ceiling or
at the shadows on the wall,
And I wonder if I'll ever find a meaning
or a purpose.
And I find I'm never truly satisfied with the answers
anyone can ever seem to give me.

The moon swings down low
Gently caressing the calm open sea
With its effervescent glow
Singing the world a lullaby
As it rides across the black night sky
Casting its light down upon
The mortals asleep below
Watching over them
And keeping the dark at bay
Till once again the moon rides on
Making way for his sister the sun,
Who will light the world,
With her warm, embrace
Heating the hearts of those who toil
Until once again she leaves the sky
Leaving only her brother moon
To serve as a beacon of hope
And guardian of all who live upon the land
Until she once again shines her light upon the world below