LEAVES of poplars pick Japanese prints against the west.
Moon sand on the canal doubles the changing pictures.
      The moon's good-by ends pictures.
The west is empty. All else is empty. No moon-talk at all now.
      Only dark listening to dark.

Midnight’s glowing solstice moon
From moonrise to moonset-
She feels, hears, sees
Magic, crickets, skunks, dew-

She’s summer.

Moonset slips beneath a steel sea;
crescent sailing on the starless deep.
I sketch the hallowed sky in my dream.

Sunrise lifts from under the hills,
music stirs as dawnlight spills.

Horizon bursting,
a choir rehearsing
requiems for fallen friends.

Moonchild in the lap of a pine
singing for the wordless divine.
She wanders on the waves of her mind.

go up the rise and look down on the sea
ten miles away the moon is setting now
this is a moment which will long allow
warm recollection both of bird and tree
there's nothing here right now would disagree
that time is perfect but we can't endow
life and eternity instead the plough
pushes it under where we cannot see
lost to us all and so left far behind
are all those things only half understood
but not then wanted since the childish voice
is not the speaker for the full-grown mind
nor can we tell yet what is truly good
when we are forced to make a final choice

The moon like a lily,
Blooms from the clouds,
Carried on a wispy cirrus shroud
Floats on the sea of the sky like the foam
And sinks to the depths of the ocean her home.

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
“Good speed!” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
“Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

’Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the ***** crew and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Duffeld, ’twas morning as plain as could be;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
So Joris broke silence with, “Yet there is time!”

At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye’s black intelligence,—ever that glance
O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault’s not in her,
We’ll remember at Aix”—for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for Aix is in sight!”

“How they’ll greet us!”—and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-socket’s rim.

Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

And all I remember is—friends flocking round
As I sat with his head ‘twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.

U gave us life and walk away, crying for clothes while you are living,you forgot that the is an Angel you left at the back, the one you promise to be at her till the earth choose to separate you.

you  agree to disagree and let her tears fall every sunset and moonset you are lying to on other rose,saying ha you are the only one ha you are the only one but your heart denied your information.

now that your kids have seen the world you need to go back, but the cake you used to eat is gone,menopause has taken  your space and no happiness will be replaced by your retain.

all you have to know is that you are the careless father and no one will change that.

You failed to show support to us as your children, proving your fatherhood to your non biological kids,we wanted to learn about our roots,you think we will get it from heaven, father we will show you respect after death just to cry that we had a father now he past on .

But now that you are living, we acknowledge you that you are the careless father

Moonset slips beneath a steel sea,
crescent sailing the starless deep.
I sketch the hollowed sky in my dream.

Sunrise lifts from under the hills,
music stirs as dawnlight spills.

The horizon bursting,
a choir rehearsing:
requiem for a fallen friend.

Moonchild in the lap of a pine
singing for the wordless divine.
She wanders on the sea of her mind.

I want to breathe you in
Feel your skin upon mine
In
Simplistic satisfaction

I want to hear your heartbeat
And feel your hot breath
On the back
Of my neck as I fall
Asleep

I want to live in the afterglow of nothing
Of Pure happiness
And lazy content

I want to see your smile
At every stage
And have your laugh on repeat
Next to me

I want to see your face
At two in the morning
As you let your dreams
Take you away
And I want to know
That I am part of them

I want you to let down your
Iron-clad
Walls
And let me in

I want to be
So very selfish

I want to know your
Memories and
Pain and
Triumphs and
Falls and
Every little thing that can make
You smile

I want to record every second
I spend with you
To watch again
When we are apart

I want to see you grow
To see the sun bathing your
Skin
And it's warm, sandy texture
To be pressed against mine

I want to soar with you
Over all of the hate
And misery
And corruption
In the world

"I can take on the world with
One hand
So long as you
Hold the other"

I want to love you
In the childish
Pure
Fresh and simple
Sense of the world

I want to explore you
And everything
That you are built from

I want to know every
Twist
And turn
That makes up your soul

I want to be
So very selfish

I want to brace you to
The storms
And inevitable pain
You will face

I want to kiss away every tear
And memorize every contour
Of your face

I want to laugh with you
I want to laugh for you
Because of you

I want to invite you into my world
And my heart
I want to share with you
Everything that can be shared

I want to feel your muscles
Ripple and contract
Underneath me
As your mind disconnects
From this world

I want to discover with you
Every part of yourself
You haven't yet explored

I want our breath to mingle
In and ever-present
Greeting
Of hello
And "I love you"

With you I want to reach the end of
The rainbow

Share in disappointment
And bliss
Misery and
Ecstasy

I want to hear you call my name
Everyday
So I won't be forgotten

I want to watch you
Break apart
And lose your way
And
I want
To be there
To help you Re
Discover Yourself

I want to hold you in my
Arms
And run my hands all
Across you

I want to be
So very selfish

I want to give you back rubs
When you've had a
Stressful day

I want to get lost with you
I want to explore with you
I want to ignore the world
With you

I want to watch the
Sunset'~'Moonrise'~'Moonset'~'Sunrise
With you huddled by me

I want to know everything that
Bothers you
Everything that makes you angry
Everything that makes you cry out
In anguish
Or defeat

I want to share a lazy morning
Cup of tea
Or slice of toast
With you

I want to face the darkness
So long as
Your eyes will guide me

I want to sit on a dirt road
In the middle of nowhere
Curled tight against you
Under a blanket
And watch a campfire burn out
And the stars replace the flames
As our light source

But being with you makes me
Shine so very bright
Anyways

I want to be
So very selfish

And have you by my side

unnoticed,
a silvery sliver,
you fade into our shadows,
and descend into our tears.

To sail across the moonlit sky
Through the mist, clouds and fog

Amongst the coursing moonbeam sea
Along the starry night above,

Treetops billow, bend and break
As seaweed dance beneath the waves

Row and row upon the waters
Of speckled sky and shining luna

Sails full with cool night breeze
Course set by airy currents

The seafloor comes alive with beasts
Darting across the leaf strewn paths

Upon the horizon, a storm does swell
Lightning flashes in the ocean below

Winds strengthen, clouds rush onward
Rocky sailing upon greying skies

As the moonlight washes away in the rain
From the stormy sea within the sky

The storm calms as dawn grows near
The seas fall as blue sunlight breaks

The stars wink out their goodbyes
As moonset brings a new day’s work

The ship makes land beneath the sheets
While we all rise from out dream filled sleep

heather why did you
come at this time, in the
midst of all the cacophonous
panic? forgiveness aside, i know
you're lifting lids from my
third eye, a gift you always had
in life, you still share selflessly
from the other side.

heather why did you
leave so ripe, in the
mist of a summer's moonset
cultivating cold? all my guilt
creates blockages, it cannot
fit inside me, it sits instead
as a crown in a place from which
you would pluck out both
horns and halos, and toss them
while laughing, into the stillness
of the sound.

i know these false records and
moon shifting memories are not
all i am left with. last night
when you laughed, it relieved some
of the pressure, but many times
i've seen you laugh when you were
sad, so how do i pull this
fringe all together?

heather why did i
ignore you for so long? was it just so
the scale could tip now, or are there
signals in the circles of the ripples
that rebirthed you?

I have never woken up to a sunrise

Instead,
I have watched the walls turn
From gray to orange, and
From orange to white,

Seen the shadows of trees
That never knew the sight of my face,
Refracted light creeping into my bedroom through
The windowsill

Forcing their way through the darkness,
The cracks,
And the creases of my eyelids.

To this day,
The closest I have gotten to sunrise
Wass the musky gray of
Dawn.

But I have woken up to a moonset.

we were never sure of that house's color,
either way it was the skies child from morning to end,

you'll see your layers when you finally shred yourself apart,  
and your words like heavenly moonset skies will heal my wounded mind you said,

years later and i am still coughing up bits and pieces of you,

we were hollow like the bottles that we drain

After each sunrise to sunset,
is a blink of a bright eye,

Before each moonrise to moonset
is a blink of a night eye,

each night that, there is no moon
                 to rise
                  or set
darkness buries deep, in dark hearts,
never has a day come without the sun,
                to rise
                 or set,
which would be, the darkest, darkness yet.

Do you
feel fear, rise
or do you know
about glory's light,
where is your hope, set
                                     yes, Glory's Light!

When you yield to be
my subject, I will go beyond
the moon to propose.

A rendezvous in
the lost Eden of ecstasy
to retrieve footprints.

On the muds of time,
who knows whom we will meet
in the jungle of rains.

Our feet are in the water, we exhale the semester away, and kiss the moon goodnight.

A sporadic membrane of white motion paves the way for daybreak...a moonset for the books that feigns the horizon's onlookers for a thirsty tangerine.

We tread back...slow and steady. Music sets the mood, too loud perhaps, but we are outside after all, so who cares.

I settle heavy upon the sweet and salty cushion. I fell the tremble as the earth inhales and exhales.

I look up, that endless span of spilt milk prompting reflection--my gaze upon a picture that my brother, a thousand years gone by, too admired.

We think that we are so much smarter now. How often we laugh at our naive predecessors and how quick we are to praise our clever selves. Isn't it so much easier now? To cook? To sleep? To dance?

But we are no better off now than ever before. We fail to recognize the relative ailments that ******* our generation same as plague and epidemics past.

We must humble ourselves...must realize how truly insignificant our little speck of an existence is in the grand scheme of happenings and play things.

To compare the human condition on earth with that of the blink of an eye, on universal terms, is only to begin to understand how little our time here matters. So get over your affliction, you poor you-you. Stop your anger. End your sadness. Feel greatful that your person was important enough to matter to you for a moment. Feel even more greatful if yours was the genuine concern of another.

Mind your gaze, please and thank you, find the sun, and say your prayers.

Peter (my bf) and I were in Paris, about three weeks ago (I was on Spring break, he was on vacation from work).
‘Headstart for Happiness,’ by ‘the Style Council,’ was playing low somewhere.
“This is the kind of starry winter night that guy from the Netherlands used to paint,” I observed.
“If you were writing about it,” he asked, “how would you describe it?”
“Imagine a deep, still blue, hosting a field of luminescent light scatter, and a bashful moon, low in the sky, as if it were hiding in the trees.” I guessed.
“It’ll moonset soon,” he said “within the hour.” he added.
“I never think of moonsets.” I said, looking at the sky like it was new.
“The moon follows the line of the ecliptic,” he said, as if that meant something, “more or less,” he qualified.
“To think I grew up under an undifferentiated sky,” I marveled.

When I’m with him, I can relax, I don’t have to be-on, he’s smart enough.
Of course, I’d come in handy if he went into cardiac arrest or started choking on something.

We were sitting side by side, outside ‘Le Café du Marché,’ a bistro near the Eiffel Tower. Our waiter,  Léo, had just refilled our coffee. It was 9:30 PM and we’d been at this table for about two hours.

We’d reduced the tarte-tatin to a few crumbs forty minutes ago, but Léo knows me and although they're thirty tourists in line for tables, he won’t rush us.

Like puppets dance, we often mimic lines - I don’t know why.
“I was stalking you,” I confided, running a finger along his long-sleeve shirt-cuff.
“I was stalking you,” He said. Our eyes were fixed on each other.
“No, seriously,” I said, moving in much closer, to be serious.
“No, seriously,” He deadpanned back.
“Then I caught you,” I went on, and I was very close now, our lips maybe two inches apart.
“No, I caught you,” he said, smiling as I got very close. “It was ****** Jujitsu,” he softly bragged.
“Wax on, wax off,” I said before I stole a quick kiss.

Peter was shocked, a scooch, by French teens.
If French teens have a crush, especially in Paris, it’s a ‘drop what you’re doing,’ snog-fest - between classes in the hall, on-the-metro, in a coffee shop or grocery store they go-all-in, because love must be stormy, urgent, tinchy.
Here’s a secret. Peter says, “You **** my face, like no one ever has.” It must be the French in me. Ha!

Of course, I learned all I know about love from Taylor Swift.
Let’s see, first, I must be willing to let down my guard - because love can happen at any time.
Love, at its best, is overwhelming, mistake prone, meaningful and powerful - but I can’t assume it’ll last, because my lover may have ulterior motives. I could be hurt or changed by the experience - but I’ll have the memories. Eventually though, I’ll heal enough to try again - with a new set of expectations.

Maybe I’ll even write a song or a poem about it.

Mom,
scrach my back
and my Chest
So I give birth to the
Moon
rub my eyes with a bat
So I see after the moonset .

All these window lights are people
Eating, breathing sleeping
Like the sunrise, like the moonset
Devouring the space given to them
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).

All these stars are dying
Emptying out their existence to the
Emptiness of the unknown
Devouring the space in which they seek
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).

Who is it that wanders in their mind’s
But the ones who ask the harder questions?
Who is it that goes down into the black swamp
And confronts the age-old cypress?
It is the one’s filled with light and dying
Like a river, like a mountain
(Sleeping, waking, moving).

A wave coming out of China,
A ripple widens,
Connecting a world.
An Aria, sounding as water,
Breaking in a Michigan stream. Glory in the
Expanse of God's Eye,
Below a peninsula above
Traverse while the Locke
Pours back to the inlet.
And you drive into lake snow
Piling 3 inches an hour.
And the woods take the nightfall,
Bury it to the hollow,
As summer sleeps
In the bogs.
This interruption of
Blue twilight overtakes
A neighborhood to a place
I cannot recall.

Starlight winks, awakening
A child gazing to a moonset,
Slivered, falling behind
The trees. As the night
Lulls to a quiet we
Only remember in passing.
A conversation in low tones
Of time passing like headlights across the ceiling,
Then gone. A time of forgetting.
A dog barks at something
Only he can hear.
As your Father snores
And your Mother watches
Macmillan and Wife.

And you drive the endless drive toward Mackinac
To the dirt road and runouts
Down near the channel,
As the water breaks in
A run, Laughing in the rush over the falls, As the planets
Arc across the sun in due fashion.
A pattern of stars revolving
To infinitude.
I point my arrow at the sun,
It falls below it.
Hearing the twigs crunch
Beneath my boots,
And the breaking sound
Of voices trapped in the rocks
I paid the fare, I'll ride it
To the end of the line,
Carrying me where it will.
And it never rains.
And gas is a rich man's *****. Under a blue sun
And the trucks grinding
Up the interstate.
And no more rain
In a summer gone to drought.
The grass brown in blight.
Wishing for color rising
With the fall.
I'll see it between Sun
And shadow.I'll dream
Of November. I'll await
The first snow falling
In a white haze to the trees,
In a darkness descending
East to West. As water drips
From the eyes, and sweet rain sounds as voices
In a rushing brook.
And the Michigan waves Boom against the rocks,
Breaking the island in two.
I hear the drip of the faucet,
Its in these things
All dreams begin,
Back to the place
From which it came.