Kick the Moon

by on April 4, 2013 :: 1 comment

O Moon, sharp-edged,
Welted tangent toes,
Sharp rounds crunching
Hacks boisterous houses,
I kicked a stone: Moon created,
A monotonous life before the screen
Writing, writhing
Press two fingers
And heart will blast off
With no errors and complications,
Tear apart the last remains
Earth trembles, sky vomits;
I’m cleansed thoroughly,
Through a narrow path
This darkened vision I see
A primitive era arising,
My bones dissolve
Dark-blooded, pure;
I’ve nothing to lose but shine forth,
Is this a compulsion to love?
She offers her lips to kiss,
Oh, let me touch it and forget her!
Cross it.

editors note:

A keyborne, moonbeam chaser tries to kiss but crosses. Press “enter” to try again. – mh

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