Thursday, October 23, 2008

Mina Loy

Moreover, the Moon--


Face of the skies
preside
over our wonder.

Fluorescent
truant of heaven
draw us under.

Silver, circular corpse
your decease
infects us with unendurable ease,

touching nerve-terminals
to thermal icicles

Coercive as coma, frail as bloom
innuendoes of your inverse dawn
suffuse the self;
our every corpuscle become an elf.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You know I love the Moon, the beautiful mystical Moon. So many write about her and ever one I love to read.
Well done, you for capturing her beauty.