Moon Shadows

Men
so beautifully happy
Old and not working
Rocking with old hands,
looking at old land
They turn and spit
in a can to roll thunder
and watch clouds flash into a rumble
Above that distant mountain that they can watch
with a toothless smile

They’ve just had the best kind of sex
Where they forgot it existed completely
and then the dream expelled such a climactic ecstasy
that they rested, again, as for the first time
and wept themselves to sleep within a sigh
that slipped him, too, off and away to no dreams—goodbye.

(They speak of things with satisfaction that settles
beneath deep wounds of other things forlornly grieved)
Men need a restful shut-eye when they lie
beside the someone that watches them sleep
who will watch them to help them breath.
The man in Men’s needs is immaculately conceived
---
---
Then Stirred the Silence
Silence of
Pacified Women
making the sweet ecstatic art forms from-
the polite and cheery. They’ve grown another form from their first combustion to flames that found five orgasms a day by eighty

and their faces ring with glistening charity.
Yes, they are dirty in their dreams
and it lays softly as pure sand
in the safety of Hawaii when the
open windows make fresh air settle in their wrinkles
Women who together make faces that smile straightly and giggle.
They can move one section of face at a time when sitting privately in their vanity
(They can move themselves undone)
And those wrinkles are deeply unnoticed, fed from
the surefooted Wisdom of Youth-sprung.
Woman.
She bears all life
and in Life all are made beautiful.

06/28/2006