July 26, 2015

lunacy

i know why chained dogs howl at the moon
i turn my teeth on myself
i rend what is already tattered
rather than tear at the one who tears at me

how mysterious, the changeable and ever-cycling moon
how mysterious, that people can say they love,
and mean such different things

we make our chains by what we give or keep
i gave you all and freely
i made you all that mattered to me
if my lonely spirit sings in the dry spells,
if it sings to you of rain, of waxing full again,
it sings to the unhearing, incomprehensible moon



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