the moon
i see you there, legionnaire
i see the pen you bear
like the tide i bring in – i surface –
all the tears you veneer
i see them hit the canvas
as you look up to me & stare –
i’m a friend a glimpse out the pane
whenever you need an ear
these craters upon my face
show i’ve too felt the strain
of being pulled in all directions
besides the one i felt most sane
so even sometimes i disappear
to gather my thoughts & fears –
but i’ll always return to the sky & listen
for i have too – been there
Dionysus
old God, how ancient
must your heart bleed?
i estimate the diameter of Venus
must be its size & shape!
your concord hair & anemone eyes
darken as you sublimely age –
like the bottles of ballads behind you
on the wine racks of Eternity!
your throne is a wild pub
where blokes come to blows –
over slurs of poetry
mistaken for prose
still you stand composed
as maenads pour another note
past my lips – into my wits –
making rhyme & rhythm flow!
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