DUANE LOCKE THE MOON in PoetryRepairShop MM.12:139

goldenwebaward 2000-2001 
awarded: 2000.08

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DUANE LOCKE
THE MOON

The moon's arms are now amputated by foottracks.
No longer has the moon any arms to embrace us.
Our generation must endure life without ever being
Caressed by the moon. Our generation
Will never know the love taught by the touch of the moon.
The moon's arms have been amputated
By the money of idiots building machines.
Love between people has disappeared from the earth.


Poem, © 2000, DUANE LOCKE (all rights reserved; To copy or translate this poem, please contact the poet)

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goldenwebaward 2000-2001 
awarded: 2000.08

Return to contents: ISSUE MM12
HOME


Duane Locke Introduces STEVE BARFIELD
A Navajo Answer for the Southwest Hum


When you ask the Medicine Man
he may be surprised by your question.

We sleep by the silver rustle in the moonlight mesquite.
The Great Spirit gave it to us so that we might rest.
Will you question the noise of the wind?

There are many other hums.
For texture seek out the summer cricket,
a night ally found in a clay jug.

Or for a blowing blanket of a sound
see the cicada in the mulberry season.

My own favorite is the occasional honey bee,
on the wing it is a small gift for the ear.
The sound is the color of a sacred sand painting
dancing in the wind.

But what you are hearing
is the clock of the earth
that is quietly running down.


Poem, © 2000, STEVE BARFIELD(all rights reserved; To copy or translate this poem, please contact the poet)

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