but where was the moon

but where was the moon

in the corner, the hole

in the bucket, dear

your home is a platform

of stars.  it's cold

on sharp nights.  and

silent like hands

without knives.

your craft is distinct.

clear: cut the moon

in half, in hands, cover

with pine sap.  send.

there is no virtual

tomorrow, this is not

a button to click.  this

is the moon, my friend,

the moon.

pull the papers towards

the lines and read between:

full-empty
half-new-half-full

some sew the moon

into blankets & boots.

i dove in.  then where

was i?

7/2/12