Monday, September 23, 2013

Moon Poem

At full moon I tip my cap
toward the Ruler of Tides,
of bleeders & of poets.

 I do this courtesy
as a practical matter
as have others before me
on behalf of fools for whom
our own world is a petty orb.

 I am not the only creature
observing balls of rock & gases
dancing their definite dances.

When I dance as a gift to the sky,
I always choose my own mask,
the old rules are merely suggestions.


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"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson

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