A Hot Moon

Across the river there’s a sunrise,
Gilding gold into blue eyes,
Sewing sequins in the tide.
An open hand like the night sky,
A bowl of space just the right size
To hold us and all our time.

When I breathe I watch my soul go
Out my lungs, out the window,
Wearing a black blindfold.
So lead me to a wild place,
A thorny thicket where the fruit tastes
Like the wine that waters your soul.

A burnt cottage like an eggshell
With a mossy stone well
Where the swallows make their home.
We’ll pile thatch in the living room,
We’ll light the hearth with a hot moon,
Each other is all we’ll own.

So come on, pack a suitcase,
Or sell your clothes poste-haste,
We’ll wear our sun-starved skin.
When the dawn hugs the heather,
We’ll greet the day with pleasure,
Gilded eyes thrown wide open.

tiny-dancer

September 2, 2008

this is great. very well written. btw, when i first clicked on your diary, i thought the entry title was “a hot mom,” lol.

Sheenami

Cool.

RYN: I know I know, I probably shouldn’t have resorted to her childishness….buuuuttt….I wanted to hurt her feelings. That’s the best excuse I have lol. And when I have a baby, you better write a MILF poem about me. Don’t worry, you have PLENTY of time to think about it. I think I should rope me a husband first.

Lmao that’s actually quite amusing. I hope it wasn’t post Steve Perry 😉 I kind of stole your ” dance , scream, and love ” well it actually sparked the idea for my entry, so I thank you for that.

lush.

September 8, 2008

RYN: I’ve written some decent things while drunk, but only drunk to a certain extent. Definitely not shitfaced. Everything that I try to keep inside comes out when I’m drunk and sometimes I articulate the misery kind of well. I guess it’s not the writing style, though, and, like you said, the finer perception. You are an ace writer. I know that’s a stupid comment, but I can’t even measure up.