myspace poem

through the broad earth's aching breast
who is the runner in the skies
moonlight deep and tender
risen from the dead
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
take my bracelets
this is the arsenal
sweet with fern and rose
it was a tall young oysterman
my mother taught me that every night
three years ago today
and how could you dream of meeting
pushing out, struggling vainly
green afternoon serene and bright