The Moon Becomes a Parable

After Susan Stewart

 

However many homonyms cross their heart and hope

Bound a handful of prime numbers in their prime

Mudras in daylight fill my two side pockets

Meanwhile repartee smooths into the ear canal 

Slide ruling history with a fragment of pomp

 

Privacy my primary gift to you

However many homonyms cross their heart and hope

The handful of possessions need to be released 

Mudras in daylight fill my two side pockets

Thought capsizes some of the indifference

 

When I feel out of bounds my hands extend

Privacy my primary gift to you

A gift hidden away in the sleeves of the home

The handful of possessions need to be released

The moon becomes a parable 

 

Fraught with rear view mirrors I keep polished

When I feel out of bounds my hands extend

A tender offer severing informal chat

A gift hidden away in the sleeves of the home

Impromptu variations eclipse the theme

 

Errors of fact are thought to prompt music

Fraught with rear view mirrors I keep polished

Fractions destined to craft a little history

A tender offer severs informal chat

A child's game played on the painted circle on the floor

 

Subtraction enlists the lust for privacy

Errors of fact are thought to prompt music

We called our home the woods and each year waited for fall

Fractions destined to craft a little history

Chance operations meant leaves would be raked and burned

 

The yoga breathing teacher delights in lion's breath

Subtraction enlists the lust for privacy

I still feel the football band's bass drum tone in my stomach at night

We called our home the woods and each year waited for fall

Time to free the grass blades clean of dust

 

How I live now is to sip freshness from the dark

The yoga breathing teacher delights in lion's breath

How silent the night birds how quiescent thought conversation

I still feel the football band's bass drum tone in my stomach at night

You could smell leaves burning all the way to the football games

 

Extrasensory memory eclipses forethought dream

How I live now is to sip freshness from the dark

I do not prepare for sleep but allow it to arrive

How silent the night birds how quiescent thought conversation

Long nights stretch across a facsimile of witness protection

 

Whispering is not speaking truth to power

Extrasensory memory eclipses forethought dream

Miniature trellises keepsake thought

I do not prepare for sleep but allow it to arrive

I helpmeet mostly along the curved position of sleep

 

Chapters averse to completing the story 

Whispering is not speaking truth to power

A gift hidden away in the sleeves of the home

Miniature trellises keepsake thought

Fraught with rear view mirrors I keep polishing

 

Whose precious spine feeds my mind the comfort of skies

Chapters averse to completing the story

I lambent limn my thin lifetime 

A gift hidden away in the sleeves of the home

Storytelling weaves into common parlance

 

I lived my early life beneath oak trees whose acorns popped in the fire

Whose precious spine feeds my mind the comfort of skies

High above the dross of clouded earth

I lambent limn my thin lifetime

Night birds aspirate oncoming wind 

 

Whose precious spine feeds my mind the comfort of skies

I lived my early life beneath oak trees whose acorns popped in the fire

Cured brown fade-able gems in light

I lambent limn my thin lifetime

However many homonyms cross their heart and hope

Mudras in daylight fill my two side pockets