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 Sep 2020 Anthony Pierre
Cné
~
Romantics find her flawless
and the mystics find her wise.
The ancients found "The Huntress"
in her sharp and searching eyes.
Italians say "bela luna"
when they look at her and sigh.
The cavemen painted pictures
as they wondered at the sky.
The moon has many faces
and her light's a work of art...
And to the simple poet...
she is tonic for the heart.

~
You are an ocean of love
I float and drift on your surface
but under your sparkling skin
teems an ineffable life
another world mostly unseen,
selfless, unsung, and undeserved.

But here I am not even skin deep.
Am I afraid
of drowning in your depth
of being overwhelmed
in my modest capacities?

Oh my love
even if I see only what you reveal
to the sighted
I saturate myself in your splendid shallows
and await those precious interludes
of your deeper touch.
Canvases and caverns
Concave inversions
Humid ontologies
Reside in reverse order
It's all imperfect
This i’m certain of
All is becoming
For total recovery
Is but a blind man’s fortune
And a soul is no surgeon
A thousand years later
And still no progress
Worth speaking of
What’s the matter with your heart
Is it a faulty circuit
Or did a fuse blow in the dark
We are all targets of uncertainty
Fallen upon piles of confusion
Still i am grateful
To be ruined by your love
 Sep 2020 Anthony Pierre
Abby
Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.
Birds will always be,
To spread & fly their wings.
The glory of birth,
Dear nature’s mothers sing.
Art takes time to grow,
Us as flowers to bloom.
Bewildered the wild,
Here for us to consume.
So inspiring,
The winds for me to tell.
Grooming trees to talk,
Grown tall to wish you well.
Let the sun set on,
Always new tomorrow.
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