I Look at the Moon

I look at the moon and think of the world these words
will never touch up there in the steadfast blue
somehow lunar reality seems upended
while the moving dot I call my mind
begs me to hold up a thumb and compare

the cuticle I call my own with this
heavenly satellite its light never its own
as the sun plays with us no it's more
a piece of cloud laughing like Kohala
mountains asking us to see through

the illusion that cannot possibly be nothing
everything conspires this way
into a sort of symbology of souls
meeting and colliding themselves
heavenly bodies with a soundtrack

that throws us somewhat
we check our watches note the location
establish a few reference points or
coordinates and breathe into our
curvature of make-believe

rest or stillness and soon enough
the half-moon becomes the top
of Buddha's curly head lifted so far
off the planet there's a quiet gasp
who said that how did we get here

and what's the point surely
I'm just a visitor here surely
I kept my promise and it's time
to move on surely the pages
will keep lifting and fluttering

in these whirligig gusts until
the story ends or begins or flips
to that really gripping scene
the one where kingship is at stake
and we're ready to sacrifice everything

and though we know there's nothing
extraordinary really going on
what with the sounds of traffic
the engines belching and droning
the voices of strangers inserting

words words words into this moment
inside our own galaxy
the alarm is out and when the moon
disappears behind a rooftop
our blood runs wild