Daniel Edward Moore, Poetry

Home in the Dirt of Light


Conversationally, L 
is a short season bloom.

Even the sun is saddened by 
her tongues quick strokes of 

color on thorns, the way 
her voice’s sabbatical screech

stops you like
the rest of her does,

ear to the ground, 
deaf to the sky,

the next leaf breaking 
through unannounced

growing you like 
hunger does, a

home in the
dirt of light.



Dear Silence


Some say peace      slows     suffering down         
           training the breath           for a cardiac crush  
                               as the weight of words       in the back of my throat   


bench press the mind      with demonic decrees
           to be better & bigger     & louder than souls   
                               sucked from the world     through trailer park doors.


I believe quiet        helps weakness give way    
        the way wind drops a tree    in the ocean’s black mouth   
                                        the way terror resists               a pastoral need
 
to make bone into wood      designed by decay.
                       For you & Death         I’d do anything
                                                                  to protect         your holy vow


your sweat worn blood born      aria of dreams 
                        shredding the sky with         the last alleluia
                                              as it tries to survive      the downward pull


of all the promising          parts of me    
                            flat on their back     out of space out of time
                                                     where I first        fell in love with you.
                                 
   

Learn more about Daniel Edward Moore at his website, here

About the contributor

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