~ heaven and earth are trapped in visible form: all things emerge from within the writing brush ~
Dec 17, 2011
Like the tell-tale trail of the comet's tail
that’s left when a piece of ash
is flicked off a crisp white page,
thats the feeling
of a fleeting
moment
of inspiration.
The silver glow of smoke rings remind me of a lifetime ago when I saw a phosphorous paper moon,
a Taurus moon, gentle and pregnant, tight and taunt like a drum singing ancient songs
her gentle ivory swelled
before spilling
its dark matter upon the pockmarked earth...
Roaring to the winds
Her Brothers
To the sun
Her Father
With fangs bared, polished like stones
She sneered
Growled
Hissed
Spat
Brilliant vermillion claws caught you unawares
Before you touched the ground
She'd dis-appeared,
Melted into the air.