Written Contusions

The full moon rising.
Fingernail clippings are thrown
into the darkness.

Sorrow is present
in between the faint moanings
of tall bamboo stems.

A man's open palms.
Appearing into the sky -
fiery thunderbolts.

An old scab is picked
revealing the bloody moon.
Dark clouds separate.

Silver boughs glisten
as sun rays penetrate clouds
after a night's dream.

March 14^th, 2007

Heyah! Just wanted to share this picture I got from Deviant Art. I am really having a wonderful time ogling through the wide variety of art that is available in this site.

Kudos to Scarlet-dragonchild for this surreal drawing of the moon. This is called Talk to the Moon.

I have always considered the moon as one of my closest companions in my night-time existence. Last night, I saw the yellowest moon that I have ever seen in my life. This inspired me to string along a few words while I was on the van going to work.



I have walked with the moon in the darkness.

I have held her silvery hand while we were walking on spiderwebs

stretched over spindly stems.

We have rippled a nearby pond with the fleeting reflection we have cast upon its stillness.

She held my hand while she rode on a hawk's eye moth so we could fly away from my bedroom window.



That's what I have so far. I can feel a little bit of melancholy as I am writing this post.