| Moonstrung The moon, she sang her cuddle croon, and in her cradled breath, I felt the strings of heartstrung loom reach round and slow entwine me with the silvered threads of your cocoon; As bright as love, and shining wet. And as the sky lay tilting on, and clothen clouds flow lilting by, witnessed I, this moon ensconced: a powdered, molten moth wings' eye, in fabric weaving, warping, cleaving constancy in constant sky. Wrapped in tethered tidal coils, as lightly as a feathered tread, with love and lunacy our spoils, a flight of heather for a bed; As Fates will spin, and Clotho toil to fashion string, and sing to thread, much in the moon is brought to boil in headstrong heart and heartstrung head. written in 1993 |