#100 Chew on the Moon

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.

The wolf chews on the moon

With a napkin and a wooden spoon

There is no hunting during this season

The year fell to the constructions of mages

The next will be born to shop fronts and iron skeletons

The following one will be raised in sentences and electric rails

The one that then comes after will yawn first into the tide and the tears of glaciers

And then the subsequent ones will stretch, wiping us from their eyes

Bad dream – it was a long one tire some stress full and violent

They will all come together and finally flourish smiling

The wide teeth of the sun beaming my goodness

There will be dancing and apples and hot springs

And fresh eyes that stuck to the earth belly

There will be yawning and aweing

The skip in the step shall return

The body won’t feel oogy

Sights for sore limbs

Evening’s freckles


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