Seeing the moon whole could mean
madness, now or overdue, for the supreme
vanity of daring to eye-gulp the whole swiss cheese.
Please gods and moondogs
the effort pays in insubstantial ways,
makes a life, gives it focus but employs for life times:
spilt milk
one milk tooth
a throat charm
against seeing but
not the saying.
It troubles me that I can't get it right.
Not the moon but the poem.
So here I go again behind the moon.
Where's this going? To what end?
James Wright says, 'Men have the right to thank god for their loneliness'
Kenneth Patchen says, 'We can lie here with the angel if we like'
A wee brush of the esoteric, and a graze of the Abstract, but interesting and very well structured...I like it...Well done...[FjR'19]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
P.S. And, yes, I get it...And if only we could shoot pigs and jewish rye to la Luna...how much better life would be for NASA?