Wednesday, November 7, 2007

oh moon

Oh moon, brute orb,
pooled cold, eye of light
that broods over fools!

Oh moon, oh moon, when will
you still the highway’s howl
that hums my skull abed at night –

when will your crystal moodless calm
bloom mutely in me –

or failing this
when will you too storm, and be
drowned, when will you toss
on wind-moaned boughs?

When will you know, when will you
see, privy to our doom,
and knowing, blink Oh eye
of light that looms
but nears not, and not, evermore not?

November 6, 2007

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