moon batchelder Poems

what could it mean?
to be his love.
and what might be involved?
what forfeiture of time?
...

an owl in darkness hidden
somewhere in the trees,
began to chant - unbidden
her soft soliloquys.
...

mutated simultaneous sensations,
manifold manipulations,
subterfuge and subtle urgings,
and perfidious persuasive purgings,
...

life's cauldron
takes it all in;
freedom - thralldom,
such a fine elixir!
...

his voice!
something in it arouses my lust...
a dark and steamy dragon, at least.
stirring my anxious flesh to go prowling
...

how could you!
how could you enter my dreams,
since you reject this, my love, day by day.
...

it's not your moodiness that offends..
it's the tongue-click annoyance you infuse
into the ethers,
onto things that you touch...
...

i gave him more than he deserved,
more than he'll ever see.
i gave him more than what he'd come for,
cause what he thought he'd get from me
...

evolve,
metamorphose! - no worth
'til self dissolve.
...

my muse inspires me not those epic verses
to pen. - but to record the season's changes,
the light and livelyhood such rearranges,
or how a sand grain holds whole universes,
...