“What is not to be had in haste, may yet echo on the grieving wind.”
— Su ****

The pallor of the desolate plain —
a wound torn by void.
Those great swathes of barren earth,
laid bare —
are my chest,
yellowed and cracked with thirst.

She holds her head high,
nonchalant —
dragging behind her a hem
as lucid and dark as eyes
that have seen through dreams.

The snowy lace, pure as accumulated frost,
stirs up dust —
like the tender light at the horizon’s edge,
trembling into dawn.

I thought it was the sweet, silken whisper
of a love just waking,
mist-drenched and dizzying…
I wandered deep into it,
entranced,
never to return.

Her steps —
mysterious as the sea’s dense murmurs
when dusk is full.

Each footfall
layered with gentle unrest,
floated
toward the dimples of innocent laughter,
ever deeper,
until freedom itself
seemed just a breath away…

And my fevered imagination
scrambled and stumbled blindly,
thrashing with futile longing.

But oh — the great ironclad of love!
Launching its voyage!
And with cannons that shattered the sky
proclaimed:

Heaven, red with blood, is boiling!
Let the burning Utopia blaze in delight!

But her steps —
her steps are also
so firm,
so forward…
As if from the unreachable gleam ahead
some force of fate
pulls her onward,
irresistible,
unmatched.

And I —
I am helpless.

Forward…
A paltry mayfly,
daring to stop
the eternal rise of the sun
with one trembling day of life.

My proud, resounding cries
were silenced,
crushed into a choking hush,
into shattered bone…

She paid them no mind.

With unbearable grace
she brushed aside the clamor —
brushed away the storms —
and moved forward.

Her heels,
cold as the blade of an axe,
hacked into my flesh.

And the rustling of her skirt
drifted farther, farther still —
until only the groans
of withered grass remained.

The moon, pale and ravenous,
devoured every ember of warmth,
and night,
black and intimate,
caressed my spine like death’s quiet hand…

I was calm —
calmer than I have ever been,
like the pulse
of the already-dead.

In vain I turned again and again
to lick the bitterness
from every grain of this earth —
each one once soaked
in the sweet sweat of youth.

And her scent, receding,
took with it
my last ray
of sunlight.

We can get
accustomed
to being too
familiar
with the
familiar
paths in life
under the
mesmerizing
mood
of
moonlight
starlight
or
streetlight
and
wind-up
taking
unwitting
detours off
these
familiar
paths in the
light of day
and lose
our way.

clair de lune 6.9.25 (7:13 pm / 19:13)
i never knew how lonely it could be
to sleep alone
i never knew how scared i would be
it’s pathetic, i know

but i’ve known you all your life
and you almost all of mine
i never knew how afraid i’d be without you

last night i held the moonlight in my hands
letting it drip through my fingers
and watching your empty bed

last night i read a ****** mystery
and then stayed up
you were not there, you were not sleeping with me
like my guardian angel

i never knew how much i could want you back
my moonlight

[playing: r.e.m. by ariana grande]

Turn out the lights
catch the night’s bequest

Train your eyes on the horizon
sunrise is approaching

Notice how blue is shading
from deep to pale

There are no shadows
Cast by the moon
Hiding behind the clouds

Sounds reverberate from
an airplane drifting
to a landing

Morning’s quiet
regains the stage

Until a Robin chirps
a wake-up call

Sunrise is approaching
advancing from east to west
lighting the sky

Rocks whiten to become obvious
against the pallid grass of winter
robbed of nutrition by the cold of January

No orb announces today
the sun is rising, although hidden
behind dense condensation

The orange orb of the sun
will not flood the skyline

The fever of night
has become the pale of the day

You swept away the winter clouds
It took quite awhile
But ya indeed have style about you
All ballerina poise
you stretch
Beyond the blue

Spring flowers
Reminisce with the melodies
Of Rain

Somewhere Picasso
Is still painting
In the way her love is still dancing
Romance strewn like moonlight
Upon the golden shore

Reynaldo Casison

A wandering soul, so lost, so wide,
Drifting through shadows where dreams reside.
For ages it wandered, through time and through space,
Seeking the moon, its soft silver grace.

One day it found, in a small stream’s glow,
A reflection of the moon, a light to bestow.
It wept in silence, the tears soft and deep,
For the love it had lost, for the promises it couldn't keep.

The willow tree sighed, its branches low,
The soul sat beneath, where the cool winds blow.
"I've loved the moon," it whispered, "for eons untold,
But I’m trapped on Earth, bound by a cold hold."

"Why must I remain in this world so dark,
While the moon shines above, like a dream, a spark?"
The willow wept softly, its leaves fell away,
As the soul, in silence, longed for the day.

It gazed at the moon, its heart filled with grace,
But forever imprisoned in the Earth's embrace.
A soul with no home, no body, no name,
Only a love that would never be the same.

Her bronze foggy haunted light
was the splendor of a winter night.
Seen through a black lace of branches.
ornamented with the corpse's of berries.
Stirred my heart with the dark side of merry.
The sky was in a utero of magic
behind it's bedazzled dilated moon.
Fetal snowflakes will be born
in the infant hours, of a dead cold dawn.
Come silent storm,
I already am your willing pawn.