Andrew Joron

 

The Phrases of the Moon 

Full

 

            the blow to a gong

—gone blind

           

            with the sight of white

Silk, O milk

            of my reason—

           

            sun reseen in

My mad mad mirror.

           

 

Gibbous

 

Sense

Less science: the

 

Wish-apparition of a perfect fact.

 

            As thought, the war

Of one upon one.

 

 

Half

 

Half a mind almost mine.

 

Whole

             fragment, I am

A being from another word.

 

 

Crescent

 

Bow bent back—to what release?

 

            My lone line, the join of all I am not.

 

A minor truth betrays

A major one—

A lore

            for the lyre.

For it is written: liar with a why.

 

New

 

            Calling all coincidence, I will

Deem the dark my day.

 

Yet—if I say

            I am lying, I am lying

To you now.

 

O zero raised to zero—I am lying with you now.

 

Andrew Joro