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Mixed-Up Moon

 

Mixed-up moon. Prop open the book.

Now and forever, you nip it in the bud.

I allow the heart does not make the blood,

Nor the human being the book.

 

Mixed-up moon. I don’t have to look.

Que no quiero ver that talked-up perfection.

It’s no use trying to rub out your reflection

From a piece of polished brass.

 

Mixed-up moon. I’ll take that as a yes.

I’ll take it outside, out of ’shot of the mourners.

I think you’ll agree it’s time we cut corners. We’ll cut

So many corners, the thing becomes a sphere.

 

Mixed-up moon. Insincere, insincere.

Thomas à Kempis and Francis Xavier.

The Better Book says that good behavior

Is the privilege, not the duty, of the good.

 

Mixed-up moon. Don’t misunderstood.

You close the circuit, find out what it’s worth.

Redwood roots running deep in the earth:

They only go down six feet.

 

Mixed-up moon. Pilgrimage sweet.

All with me’s meete that I fashion fit.

We wake and forget the dream we were having:

Same thing happens to childhood.

 

Mixed-up moon. Already reviled it.

Bird in the egg and a tale to embroider.

Any ten words in any order,

The result will be the same.

 

Mixed-up moon. Verstehn Sie ihn?

Ich—hüte mich, ihn zu verstehn.

About these kids making out on the train,

I say: Deja ir a mi pueblo.

 

Mixed-up moon. Count Dracula Twemlow.

Twelve disciples and a canine nuisance.

My rabbi says that whoever chooses

Belief is not a believer.

 

Mixed-up moon. Rock-’em Occam’s cleaver.

First publication in form of a fascicle.

Children! they don’t even know it’s possible:

Having friends you don’t like.

 

Mixed-up moon. Riker’s Island bike.

Raking the grass and raking the weed.

A plane’s shadow on building and street:

It doesn’t travel the speed of the plane.

 

Mixed-up moon. Semper the same.

Temperament, temperament, given to worry.

Their fault is they can’t even tell a story

Unless they understand it.

 

Mixed-up moon. Give Petunia a minute.

He’s gone over to Jesus, molted a feather.

Any ten shapes, taken together,

Are a jigsaw of the degenerate body.

 

Mixed-up moon. Gastrocnemius.

Hard for these geniuses, easy for children.

Most of what passes for bravery is only

Want of imagination.

 

Mixed-up moon. Insert pagination.

Bird in the egg, picking its fur.

You want to know what’s in it for her?

Your good looks and diction/syntax.

 

Mixed-up moon. Everybody wins.

¡Aléjate de mí, Satanás! unless

Any lit match will pass for a compass:

The flame points up, because hell is above us.

 

Mixed-up moon. Hell is above. 29 April 2014:

I have memorized the Hindu poem that says

This hunk of quartz must someday flex

Its back and run up a tree.

from Try Never Find more by Anthony Madrid at the library

Copyright © 2017 Anthony Madrid
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.

Published in Anthony Madrid Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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