Thursday, November 28


traversed the seas
with ease, degrees, in love
things that we know, or knew, the plunge
and lunge and how our living grew
like a milky moon emerging from the
surging horizon, skyward
so we tried it on, and on we rode
the look of surprise on my face did grow,
when in my disgrace I saw we fell short,
with my consort, of sorts, of sorts, fell short
Thus, I sailed through the soft blue,
reflected from me to you,
our ripples caressing the shore,
but i committed myself to you
to climb a mountain, with you
but turned around,
and found you had decided our love would never sound,
sweet to you
and aint that a thing, aint that a thing, to have seen,
fragments, scatterings, fallen,
our church now no longer offering a symbol,
nails removed
nailed to the moon, bleeding blue,
down onto the waters we sail anew,

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