Sun and Moon 5
dusky shawl of a knitted dream
wrapped round my shoulders
I pick at knots of tangled memory
a word as sharp as a stone
cast at a friend
sea shells cutting
naked feet
at the water’s edge
sunlight
weeping blood
over mother-of-pearl
Old Woman winds
a ball of wool
she handcuffs my wrists
with softness
spun from lambs
my hair turns silver in her mirror
snakelike I slide into my dream
slipping sideways
deep dark well of night
rogermoorepoet 
There is a fascinating juxtaposition of images in this…like an alluring dream that alternately frightens or confuses. On one hand, there is warmth. On another, binding. I love it!
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I keep saying it’s a poem with ten parts. It actually has eleven. Oh dear: a poet who can’t count his own verses. No wonder the syllables run wild. I am always in two minds about this sequence. Don’t know why …
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It is a great piece!
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Thank you, Tanya. I like it more when I come back to it. There are gaps I the narrative that I want to fill. I guess that’s partly why I am worried by it.
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There are gaps in dream sequences also. There is a dissonance that is very reflective of real nighttime wandering…
just my thoughts. I’m not sure that I would fill them.
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You are right. Those gas, like white space in a painting, are also filled with ‘unknown’ meanings.
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There again, maybe it’s one of those poems that keep gnawing away at you and you can’t quite resolve them.
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Right…that is a good thing in my mind.
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Again, you are right. It’s good to be intellectually comforted. No for some more substantial comfort. Coffee-time.
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Have a great day, Roger!
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