[Dear Planet Zog]
Light lies in the skin
In the mud, in the smell of a ruin...
In the quaint moments shut wanting to open...

In a zillion children’s burnt blood decanted from tilted hospital ruins
Not in the robots that breed robots for a planet they won’t call Zog (stupid)

There’s so much we could be doing but don’t because of how we’re feeling (odd...)

Because of what this predictive text wants us writing...(off)

**** it... I’m not frightened, never have been of being
Just frozen – broken – breaking – mending – sending – back to my soul – a child and teacher’s chance to know but not neglect this

To flow... and fetch fragments of that bliss we still nurture as it glows, grips, insists...(to wake in some blue moonlit snow and project this)
[That’s all I’m not afraid to know now – but go on, skip...]

The gentle, yet piercing glow of the full moon casts a soft light,  
Like a caring mother, watching over our well-being.  
It gently peels away the layers we hide behind,  
Revealing both our beauty and flaws,  
Forcing us to confront the self-inflicted wounds we keep alive,  
Pain that dims the brilliance of our inner light.  
It encourages us to release the burdens that are not ours to bear.  
We begin to recognize rejections for what they truly are:
Disguised protections.
It nudges us to stop longing for what isn't ours,  
And to let go of what doesn't reciprocate our giving,
Softening the walls that block the exchange of light.
The moon then steps back, giving us space to heal,  
Returning month after month,  
Waiting for us to come into our full light.

Is the rain falling where you are?
Can you see the bright full moon?
How far are you from me?
Miles and miles... too many to count.
Can you smell the salty sea?
Can you feel the cool night air?
Do you feel this heavy sadness,
when the rain won’t stop, like I do?
Nisan 2024|

Our love waltzes
And mingles with the salsa ballerinas
Sighs of moonlit waves

Reynaldo Casison

A Gulf Stream wisp, whistles, languidly,
along, a recalcitrant breeze.
Speaking of temperature, angrily.
The Pavement, can't help, but, freeze.

Branches, embarrass themselves,
with, protruding bark, baring all.
Their dream, is to one day, be shelves.
When, a messianic carpenter, calls.

Teeth clench. Bold, Blizzard, barges in,
nervous Fangs, creek, in Her presence.
She peppers, horizons, white, arduous sin.
Tusks, sign, mute alarms, luminescent.

Coy burrows, open their arms, to hug,
their Creators, for crisp slumbers, ahead.
Moonlit Creatures, pull and tug.
At soil, Voodoo dolls, to stab, Winter, dead.

© poormansdreams

You told me you loved me amongst the crowd of a Steelers game while we were searching for a hot dog and soda. Not the most enchanting, but perhaps I watch too many rom-coms for my own good. I think I've always just romanticized each aspect of a relationship and all the major moments based on what media told me meant the most.

Opening my eyes now, those special moments aren't always at a candlelit dinner or by a fireplace, many times they are at a cookout with your friends or the zoo with my nieces and nephews. The beauty of feeling something so deeply that you just have to say it, even if it's in front of a porta ***** at a church festival or the stoplight on your way home, that's the real love that people feel.

So when I tell you I love you while sitting on my couch on a random Monday night, know that I mean it. Know that every muscle in my body wanted to tell you because I didn't wait for candlelight or an array of stars, instead I told you in the most real way, our way.

We will still have those romantic moments on a boat under the moonlight or the fireplace of an old house, but we will also have those passionate moments where we couldn't keep our feelings in anymore and the most appropriate place just happens to be a crowded train on the way downtown and an airport bar. I love you and I'll say it anywhere.



-t.s.

Between the two
is an eye
and the blue sky.

Still an unspoiled world
the butterfly
wings away.

The moonlit
starry sky
scrolls down the other eye!

A stormy night maybe dark
But it ends,
When the rays of sunshine
Pierce the clouds.
Dark days end with a moonlit night
When the pale moonlight
Turns sand into silver.
The starry night guides the sailors who are lost.
The bard may die
But his songs stay alive.