poem: annexation of the moon
written: 6:15 p.m. on Wednesday, Mar. 03, 2004

Annexation of the Moon

Words of bluish grey
stain this piece of pristine-virgin paper.
they dangle on threads of silver rain
golden lining in dark stormy clouds,

before the annexation of the rocky
bumpy dry arid surface
of the moon

which glows in the night with
some mysterious aura

but which is overshadowed in the day
by the sun that glares relentlessly

down on me.

I don't want to write these words,
for they sap the moon of its fantastical mystery
and exposes its vulnerabilities
for all who care to see.
I don't want to feel these feelings,
for the moon is happier
when it's harsh and inhabitable,
locking out its most ardent suitors.

I don't want to think about you.
Not today,
Not tomorrow,
Not ever.

March 2, 2003, 11.18 p.m.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010