Poetry: The Man in the Moon

time—
visions confuse night
with day again

sometimes I wander in circles
my eyes tracking the empty 
black sky, looking and looking
for your white glowing face
etched by night’s ancient magic
—are you even really there?

whipping backward into myself
there’s nothing and nobody
to blame as these
too empty white walls
keep screaming your name
so loud it vibrates
every swollen trapped cell

moon—
twisted hour hand
turns slowly south

when you see my eyes 
staring at your lunar ones
be not afraid you did
anything wrong, for I’m simply 
searching for cosmic answers
—can dark transform into light?

drawing with chalk along
sidewalks, chins, knee caps
caught in seclusion’s trap  
winding around and around
my neck until breath
stutters while tiny hairs
dance along wobbly legs 

isolation—
you stopped time
I started it

blue, green twisting, and wild
maybe you, moon man, can
turn madness and untethered chaos
into an endless bright sea
—do dark craters harbor truth?

dreams used to contain
promises of another tomorrow
and another, but suffocation
robs rainbows their colorful
transformative effect until diving
underground to cool tunnels
relief comes as sound
without him here to dance


*Last weekend I saw the new film “Moonage Daydream.” This poem is my response and tribute to my favorite artist of all time and creative muse, David Bowie. The artwork was created by me.