i'll never be a poet

man on the moon

the stamp of a fingernail
cut a silver sliver in the black
grabbing iron, grasping dreams
your skin in moonmilk dewglow;
your globular spirit is scabbed grey, i see it
when i look into the speckled sky every night
your scarred face always hovering close to the earth

you break into a smile and each half of the moon sits pretty and shining in each eye

full moon, full blood
full span of muscled wings swing like clock hands twirling the rim, lean and strong and smooth and destined designated

and when i cry i drip lunar pearls mini moons gently floating in a string of softened gravity
will you, in your soft gravity,
carry them up for me?
for the billion diamond seadrops,
weeping wet and whispering warm,
from the face of the earth
may the night winds lift up our prayers
a twinkling sea of white dandy.

(for moonbin)