Yearning for the Moon
I am yearning for the moon, howling for my yearn
with my mouth sealed shut, my face as obscure as the moon’s,
my body as dispersed as the sky.
all us voiceless dogs inciting the winds blunt impetus—
getting no answers, no takers—
the wind doesn’t know what its saying
as if each fluttering leaf another tribes tongue
we know better than to look up, meditating on the lines of our laces
a music without notes, just beat and scratches
getting to the next rise, the lunar eclipse of daylight
moon in the man, stars we take what flickers of we can afford
through our mouths our eyes our veins.
we could have died thousands of years ago and not know it
still shining with rage & joy sudden through our molecules
opening into untouchable universes that never get here—
universe in a patch of skin someones scratching,
universe in an acorn I ran over going nova northwest of orion
Dog Days
I let the dog out of the bottle
I picked the bottle before it was dry
the bush wasn’t a net yet
spiders over the horizon
dog bed rising, glass bell leaks
bushy-tailed tree-rats random dance of forestry
3 years later I remembered where I parked it
despite monthly mowings
I opened the bottle and went inside
are those epaulets or wading pools
my phone barks, my door-dog howls,
smoked meat smell moves around invisible
the wind is a hissing loop
I have to fondle to know how to cook it
cracking the refrigerator like a safe
like an egg for a gear shift
I scratch to make fire
full bottles are instant karma
as if each car in the mile long train was another story
when the moon makes shadows sing
