Dance
Moon dance,
you were not to blame.
Nor you,
lovely white moth.
But I saw you together.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on January 22, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.
He goes along,
in his thin flesh,
narrow bones,
slow blood,
old hat,
old clothes,
old shoes,
singing for love, battling for love.
He will go down,
There ain’t
gonna be
any more
mad parties
between
you and me
and it ain’t
gonna be
because I
love you less
but love you more.
The sky
is that beautiful old parchment
in which the sun
and the moon
keep their diary.
To read it all,
one must be a linguist
more learned than Father Wisdom;
and a visionary
more clairvoyant than Mother Dream.
But to feel it,
one must be an apostle:
one who is more than intimate
in having been, always,
the only confidant –
like the earth
or the sea.