"moonglades" poems
I am wild, my akushla,
a solivigant.
But you are a cynefin.
Your kalon conceives resfeber in me.
Beasts rumble within like brontide,
they chant of redamancy, my trouvaille.
The dragoman drew me to you
Speaking of yugen
the susurruss mountains
they cured my atelphobia
Submontane caves
where our lights baltered among the selcouth crystals
Reminding me of basorexic spoondrift
breaking the moonglades you adore,
my fellow parallian.
Perhaps it was boyish werifesteria
or maybe I was selenotropic
to fall in love with a gentle boobook
ever so finifugal when we speak
But I feel filipendulous when abendrot bows for advesperacit
You sometimes consider it sphalolaliah,
my words, going ever on and on,
But I’ll learn your lagom, if you give me time
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
the wind slips her under the awnings
and she yawns; shudder, and the doors shut.
she slept through the downy mornings of spring; her resting
in summer's thorny evenings
leaves her with a bed of brittle buddleias
and moonglades in the puddles.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
sometimes, she resembles artemis
taking midnight walks
in a sea of moon glint;
her laughter, pale and silvery
as if they are made
of the moonlight itself.
they say that ohio is for lovers
so tonight, she will leave languid kisses
on sadness' flesh and bones;
they are made of all the seas
and all the beds
she has ever drowned in.
but tonight,
she will walk with the moonglades
dancing on the waters of cincinnati,
hand in hand and coming undone,
as the moon rises
from the ghost towns in her mind.
she goes on — treading waters,
and somewhere in the background is her silhouette,
a flickering shadow of the candle fire,
slowly melting,
the darker half of the moon,
setting in the west,
drowning in the tides.
and somewhere in the background is her silhouette,
slowly crumbling
to a heap of mess.
and somewhere in the background is her silhouette,
pallid and gray —
sinking
and sinking
beneath the waves.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 2:25 AM UTC