moth to the flickering orb
2010/09/10 in poems
moth to the flickering orb
by Tanner Brockwell
moth to the flickering orb
the moon rose night
is naught for oughts
for oft as we danced
in the dusted streets
in a way the looming apparitions
of spectral vehicles
wheels as big as cars
lumbering by in a slow motion journey
a mission at once far and here
the sounds through sealed glass fainted
pass for hats for feathers for velvet
and the luminous instructions
dozens and sleep is not for soon but
the creeping sliver of cold dawn passes
the cold ridge of memory
of action of the immobile immensity
of thousand souls suspending ethereal
in the vapors of being
seen not as they are the messengers
the heralds of morn
but the vanguard of venturing night
that dark vessel specked and true
in undraped beauty she rides
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