Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Of Poets and New Moons (A Poem)

I guess I love the night
The way most people
Look forward to being alive,
The feral feel of owls and cloud,
Howls from hidden homes, crevices
Made of larva and wormhole.
I love the way Jupiter
Owns so many orbiting moons,
Shredding the dark-hole planets
With the flickering firefly of earth, how
The alien’s roost in their slick, silver
Time machines, not knowing we are human,
Only that a cosmic intelligence
Wavers us maddeningly across
Spiral notebooks, flipped open at random,
Ravaged by an insatiable insight,
It is almost malicious, the way
The need to understand grips
Your throat like a vice,
Ties your hands to the table,
Plucks an eye out for each written page
Because what the poets know,
It is never enough.

Written for Three Word Wednesday.


  1. I am a night owl as creative time...I like the hush and dark silence to write what I think I know about, and the knowing as you said is never enough.

  2. Hopefully you have more than two eyes because this is good writing!

  3. That's me to a T: ravaged by an insatiable insight. It seems more sensual than it probably is.


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