Moon Phases

panning for gold in driveway gravel, an industrious escape from the mind. A glimmer, false hope, what did I expect to mine? sifting stones as memories, these pebbles are more than pearls, than precious jewels.  the sandbox of my spirit, shifting - entropy crumbles mountains to rubble, but cannot destroy what it finds. Moon rides high, tonight, pulling hearts like tides and dragging silver trails behind on its wedding night. The moon in its futility races west to east, but looks like east to west. I'm sifting pebbles from my pile of gold, is the moon's existence mine?

I can only hope to reflect light so bright, hopefully with more consistency. 

It's a limbo I feel, a between time. Like I have five minutes until an appointment, but nothing I can finish, or start, in those five minutes. I'm tractionless, racing forward-backward like the moon, and doing so in circles. How, after Eden, could Adam and Eve settle for less? No choice, there was no choosing perfection, anymore. I see what, to my eyes, was close, but beyond reach. 

Oh, such tiny arms and lofty dreams.

A plan, then? Or destiny?

I'll sigh until you hold me high

Love? Or I'm deceived.

Broken glass between each toe

shark's teeth and barnacles

chances in a mantis hold

No, this is what it means

carpet rides on starry nights

daisies on a bed

of downy grass and reading

poems sweetly singing

of mountaintops and raspberries tasting

moonlight in your hands gossamer

as gliding swans

tiptoeing across ponds 

silver, holy night

slipping into a shell to see 

the sea tides whisper gently

press your hand to mine

and jarred awake, a dream

an electricity.

in beginnings a death

in ends: retreat

opportunity or perfect impossibility

love's broken like the moon

Now, every puzzle piece fits poorly, inadequate. Something always wrong, and standing out like a thorn in the thumb, scarlet stains on white cloth, oil on the ocean, burn patches on the ground, barrow in a field of flowers, vulture in a flock of doves, weeds in fields of corn. But even perfect blue eyes sparkle with flecks of gold, flowers grow in street cracks, and in the darkness there's a moon, sometimes.