Stuff That Spins

These days dawns chase the moon down
Up one side and down the sky,

The sun dog hot on the heels
Of the moon bird or moon moth

Or the moon myth of your choice.
Soon it will not be so hot—

How it is with stuff that spins.
They’ll spin one way a long while,

A long, long while, if you watch.
If you last, if you can last,

They’ll slip in a whole new spin.
When the boat reached the bed, she

Closed her eyes. This state of mind,
Old friends, no youths, pale clouds, rain,

A poem from the prose of things,
The wall hung with nets and ropes,

The turf dried out and aired
Like old words. The moon comes out

From east of day, hard to catch,
Fast as a cloud free of rain.