Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

moon is light


Night..after night..
Large asteroids..
Strike to the heart..
Melting moons..face..
Driving fountains..of red..
Dust..as tears..white..
Now..sheet her bed...
Without sound..
In and out..falling..
As empty space..so..
Moon..can wear..royal..
Pink..and purple robes..

Submitted: Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, July 14, 2009

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