Ask the Moon

ask the moon two approaches two dead ends. love doesn't die it just slips into your back pocket shifting uneasily like detached spiders legs you must remind it that there's no where left to run. bodyless memory entity unto itself. towards and away connected at their ends by the circumference of doubt. each movement the derivative of mute-faceted equations that click away between want and denial. you approach the subject of love with drama and a top hat twirling on a cane with a razor edge. slicing into and stretching up stopping up flows that quench the need for chronic seepage. love has answered none of the questions least of all are you able to love? or can love exist in the spaces you have left it? at first love looms like the steps of a library littered with strange words as you peer through the knees of understanding time alters the grandeur of romance revealing it as mere discovery. then the first house the patch of green and the settlement grows a cancer or a mass of promises- either way it seems incorrect. and so the long goodbye a deja vu of ripped ligaments and voided wombs love remains transient a boarder in the back of your mind an impossible achievement incomprehensible as immortality while love, the primeval cytoplasm, alters its shape in order to survive. are we left with nebular inconsistency or with love? ask the moon it will reply "rocks" ask the universe and it will remain silent. Joseph A Adler copyright 1975