Man in the Moon
Rakish man smiles
mercedes moon
spinning wheels
silvery waves
eyes dark
devious ebony skies
spirited lover
hovering in clouds.
Misted drapery opens
music plays
glistening petals drop
mouth of new moon
dancing in shadows
eyes on her.
Man paints moon onyx
with raspberry stars,
waltzing white swans
beckoning
in whispered secrets
magic potions.
White wine poured
cream crescent moon
he touches deep skin
with yearning light
opulence where
enchantment lies.
Kissing ocean’s reflection
entwining with sea
passionate alliance
with sun-glassed sun
moon holds sun
in egg cup of morning
spinning, spinning, spinning
distortion
spinning,
spinning,
spinning.
this hectic
component
is what
puts me
at ease.
when i
spin,
i can look
past the
ugly
little
creatures
clawing
at my
ankles.
if i
whirl
around
a bit
faster,
they’ll
fly off.
i can’t
see clearly,
but that
means
i am
blind to
the truth.
so i’ll keep
spinning,
spinning,
spinning.
catch me if you can.
downward facing dog
in college i had a therapist
who pushed our chairs back
and made me do yoga with her
on the dirty floor
yoga will make
the spinning
slow down
would it really though?
we didn’t even have mats
just the rampant thoughts
swirling in my mind
a clusterfuck of anxieties
spinning! spinning! spinnng!
i would push my thoughts to the back
in downward facing dog
you’re supposed to push
your legs towards
the back of the room
as if you could touch
the back wall
i push my thoughts to the front
on my mat
buckled down
my therapist would
be proud
the spins
good as gone
Spin Away
Spinning, twisting, lacking luster.
Once upon a beautiful blunder,
You looked at me through the shutters,
Dully with a lazy wonder.
Spinning, falling, crouching down.
Cannot breathe, won’t make a sound.
Your voice, it twirls round and round,
A whisper somehow got this loud.
Spinning, dizzy, running away.
Steps that hold a nauseous sway.
You enjoy this sort of boring play,
One inch closer, one less day.
