WEBVTT

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So one more moon poem, it's
called "Moon of No Return."

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Moon of no return,
never the same,

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got you on like a silver shawl,
making the train whistle squeal.

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Yma Sumac hitting all
her ranges at once

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in the white flash of night.

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I love you moon, more
than mere sea light

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or the fuzzy feel of
clouds rippling playfully,

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like whiskers across your
unshaven five o'clock shadow

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of a face nicked and bumped
clean into the 21st century.

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I know nothing ever
turns back into what

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it used to be except the soul
dissolving into pure spirit.

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This light, this
light, light is.

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