who told you
you were not beautiful?

does that mean
not worthy of their time?

but anyway
they stated as such

if anything
their actions proved otherwise

but no matter
I’m trying not to mind

that I was never real
figment of imagination

whatever you cast me
I betrayed love

and cast heroes into new moons
beached jellyfish

I’m learning to gather bones
painting a canvas

instead of
reading newsprint

sculpture of messy clay
ultimate opus

good gold
honest trinket

bees’ honey
I recognize my self

ageless blue
flame

in all that is
ugly

small practice
sunburst navel design

You were taken from me before we were born
and so I floated and grew alone in a room for two dreaming of moons and sunlight

What are you if you are a twin,
but never had the chance to be one?

I'm half of a whole made up of two people
but now I am  all of what is left,
with a ghost
hidden in my peripherals  

Sometimes I feel I am the moon,
the moon and lunar tides
which means you must've been the sun and shores
to tie me to the earth

Because when I am alone, you are the phantom beside me reminding me of warmth,
and you are the unexplained loss I feel
standing in the sun

Look to the moon of August
From any place or time;
Write a little poesy,
Name it in a rhyme.
You can call it Sturgeon,
Red, Green Corn or Grain;
No matter what your outlook,
It still looks the same.
You can call it Dog Days,
Fruit, Dispute or Lightening,
And calling it a Woman's Moon
Gives rise to all that's ripening.

When you sing
                                                                ­                           I cry

When as stars you shine
                                                                                    I wonder
                                                                ­                   and sigh
                                                            ­          
You live in the hollow
                         of my moon

               eating my shrooms

You glitter bright
                                   
               to my arms delight

Your comet eyes

Milky way smile

Star cluster hair

Nebulous wiles
                                                  
and cares

Have caught me intentionally
                                                   ­   unaware

We, three children,
bound by that gossamer of a weaving.
Oh, Mama’s moon.
“I’ll cook one for each of you, my triumvirate.”

“One I give to you, my Oldest”.
She clasps it to her heart.
The tide rises,
men fall.

“To you Middle One, this.”
She tinkers the heart that made it.
The world bleeds,
men fall.

What of mine?
To oblivion it is: I will stash.
I, Older than my grandmother, and to her.
But Oblivion’s easy,  a fish caught mine.

Mama sung, we slept.
“Hush, my dear triumvirate, tomorrow
we’ll cook again.”
Crescent smiles formed our lips.
Three moons, crushed to smithereens;
And so was her sanity, and ours.

Last night,
I told Jupiter
to sell me one of her
many moons.
Well, you can't have
Callisto.
How about Europa?
No.
Then can Amalthea
become my own?
There was silence
in waiting
for
what
I'd expect.
it's been quite
a while
actually,
a good many months
until I remembered
that small dot of silver
hung up in my room.
just where it
belonged
I found myself too.
I spoke with Jupiter
for an hour tonight
She asked "How is Thea?"
I said,
"She's doing all right."
How good of her
to want to know.
My moon is my anchor
and I love her so.

the sea in ribbons,
blue lands of the tide,
surreal as summer
with her plastic suns,
her moons of smoke,
her endless rivers.

the night frosted in silver,
shadows and moons,
iron ghosts stretching
into the darkness,
unravelling the song
of the tide.