or night might be a satin bowerbird offering the blue sky to lure you to itself
end of day flying toward feathery dark, beak and talons,
honeymoon of home and another dance of hours, more black and blue
hormones - pheromones - serotonin - oxytocin - dopamine -
chemistry of the crescent moon - dark spill of blood and smeared longing
across the infinite space of disconnect which isn't a void but avoid
ignore the conjurer's tricks - myth of metaphor - unsameness of simile
the breath behind abracadabra - whatever it is it is its own magic
voilà
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Comments
Beautiful. All of this is beautiful. Such a wild ride so fearlessly feathered into being.
chemistry of the crescent moon? Ooh la la.
these birds are beautiful, ingenious,
diligent artists but in the end
unfaithful, yet they multiply.
love chemistry of the crescent moon,
or any moon, really,
& the bower too, I admit.
They love the colour of their own eye
& see it everywhere.
and I marvel how your first lines are always a vortex taking our breath and volition away
gladly, so gladly we dance in these words