moon pages

yesternight I saw the moon
full and large; petit and petite
yet not crowned with its platinum jewels
it wore a rustic set as those of a village babe
freckled upon its body ash and black
like a raven molted and molten cauldron flesh
of a copper gold that elucidated the plains
it looked like a page of old
with half shaded by cloud and phase methinks
a book with corner torn still retains content beautiful

there night is writ and moon just space non-inked
a continent of modern ruins amongst the sea of information
a light for the dimension; zygote alphabet how odd are you
half-full in your publication of admiration and birth
for without the abyss one knows not overwhelmed
how can the night appear more like a knight of sheen
without a rustic yellow moon tickling the dark and light
bursts of wonder magnetized by such a small blot like a seal
to a billet-doux to a planet enriched in the lore and yolk. ▬

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