Moon Lover Wildflower:

This night will pass, my love,
Even if you don't sleep, this night will pass,
It will pass, and
The morning will come, the sun will rise,
With its rays bright, silky, bushy, without mercy,
Without consolation, it will tear the clouds apart,
Split the sky in two, like a woman in labor,
The day will be born, perfect child,
Perfect reincarnation, without the need to find
The closest point to Earth, The most distant,
It will pass as if it was not, and never will be, again,
It will, slowly, rotate in the direction of the Hunting Moon

Moon Lover Hyacinth:

O disconsolate lover, this night is no more than a dream
So is this evening and all the seasons
Even here in our room where the stars peep in
And the sun shall awake the sleepy white farms
Then all the forms of day shall appear
Until then my dear, fret not, for I shall love you,
Beneath the light of the hunting moon.

Moon Lover Wildflower:

my love,
the first frost fall,
please, stop,
stop, calling the firefighters,
(this is just the sun, hiding beside the naked trees,
burning for the half-moon)

my love, the wonderful figment of my imagination,
you are farther than the moon, who cares,
beneath”s moon demonic light, show me,
show me,
what it is like to start with nothing, nothing, but a dim chance and a bright hope,
and
less sleep,
and longer run,
and
trust the dogs, while the darkness embraces our blood,
licking it with its demonic tongue,

do you believe thinking matters?

show me,
show me, how you break into my heart without your head bleeding or
fall, into

do not allow fear to eat our dreams,
our place is where our dreams are,
in the river that calls saints names,

there is no other way
but dying,
if you want to feel alive,

run to the end,

run longer

sleep less
run longer
sleep less

dream more

my love, the forever, precious fiction of my imagination, you are farther than the hunting moon,
and only beneath its light, you can touch my golden breasts,
show me,
what it is like to start with nothing,
nothing

Moon Lover Hyacinth:

O my moon lover, naked in the night
With longing in your eyes, do you not see me?
Can you hear me, lover? I speak of the night with burning in my skull
Redder than the moon.
And lo! The sad white farms, can you hear the tunes they hum
Of old black spirituals? Divine you are my lover! O sweet muse of mine! Let us in our original nakedness, look at the harvest moon!

Moon Lover Wildflower:

Oo,
my tender beast,
my hunting accident,
collect the spiders on my breasts,
fall at my feet: - these roses are only for you, ”moia dorogaia”
the trumpets flowers, -wers, -wers, are whirling,
escorting us to the moon,

Moon Lover Hyacinth:

Only an owl shall hear us
In our love making
For the night is deaf and blind
Only the naked moon
And my lips,
Shall kiss your golden breasts


This poem was written in Collaboration with, Maria Mitea. A truly great poetess!

© Jack Snyder