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

The moon has one of my many faces.
Inside the face,
is a ring I have never traced.
Both eyes,
I found myself out as well.
The comets tail outside peers in.
The head of the comet,
fueled, by the taste of the sun.
There's the dark side of bright day.
Being full it pulls us apart to play.
The moon pushed us together.
So one comets tail,
it brightly flashed and was gone.