daylight moon - original photos courtesy of laura cull

enter the line
at the point not
then or where-now
but sort of a
silent halfway toward
finding ourselves.

tiny menhirs dot curious
our passage together
ancient journeys through time
or with moments to live.


question traced to your earthly toe pointed,
i am lost again without words. you
retreat, too early. insistent, the
question extended: you are the line,
i seem to be trying to say.

tiny menhir placed in your tiny hand
with a tiny hope.
you make a tiny line,
an opening.
dirt dialogue daydreams
in delayed diachronic display,
this play ex-changed
soft scars sent astray.


you are the childlike philosopher
i've heard so much about
but struggle to locate in the
everyday constellations
of two-way mirrors
that assail my very blinking
with their movements and visions.

factions of refractions,
but they have it all wrong
invert the proposition,
the sun reflects the light of your moon
bathing traces of wordless incisions.

(i've already said too much.)

maybe you don't understand this right now and
maybe you never will and
maybe you already have

walking under the daylight moon.


(for stellaluna.)


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