There Are No Stories the Moon Wants to Tell

A JOURNAL POEM
Sometimes random lines from journal pages, when lined up like a poem, make sense in a way that is as odd as the world is these days, and therefore I like them. The image is horizontal reflections turned into verticals. Everything is strange and perfect. 

 

As I stand preoccupied at the kettle
The pink of the sunset has faded
You arrive wet
A reckoning of sorts
There are no stories the moon wants to tell
There is just a bit of light
Dispersed to all the doting fans
Breath and a subtle certainty worth noting
Sometimes it is round
What kiss dreams are made of
But you never know with men or dogs
You either grab them or you don’t
No more new things, please.

He called me, afraid and excited
A sheepish/mysterious/dare-me grin
I am drawn to the tidbits
Tattoos drawn on the backs of hands
How unfamiliar that feeling and familiar at once
Where a hurricane or earthquake seem kind
Made the hairs on my back raise up a little bit
Not as a result of our enslaving or devouring or bulldozing
No, it is under a dire threat to fall apart
Men who are afraid of blood and pain
Or cannot control a sweet tooth
There simply weren’t enough knives
For the bread given to the birds
We are, as humans, collectively dysfunctional, misaligned
Somebody or something besides us should rule the world
Woke up to a skunk and an owl in my bedroom

All my life I have balanced those contradictions
All the other sounds in my head
Any minute, they could surprise me
Grab by the ankles those dreams that hovered
Then I overdid it on the head spins
My tongue is finally slowing down
Romance is an interesting exercise
That lost sense of self and time and priorities
I free myself from this urge to get all the details 
The dreams, the mistakes, and the crumbs

A part of me had been headed to the shadows
A sinking ship sort of scenario
Dedicated to unwinding myself
Do not deny winter her lines, I wanted to say
By putting leaves on them
It was almost painful, to just be free
Maybe it can speak to the contradictions of life
That’s not really an unknown, I just need a reminder
Then you are bound to be betrayed
Or latch onto catchy things or nifty people 
Where do I need to pinch?
That is all.